Opera Ghost
by The Legend of Rune Factory
Summary: The Phantom's legacy continued through his bloodline, now in the form of a young woman. Having fallen in love with her student and grown angry with the manager, she decides to take drastic measures to teach them all a lesson...with disastrous results.
1. A Late Start to My Day

**All right, ever since I first saw the 2004 movie version of Phantom of the Opera, I've had this idea swirling around in my head (on my iPod, the first and second installments are finished and the third is in the works). As I'm new to this phandom/fandom, I'm not completely sure on all the facts concerning Phantom. If anyone has any suggestions, please, DO NOT hesitate to tell me!**

**As for this story, the main idea is that the Phantom is now a girl. It also takes place in modern times. I didn't know the official last name of Erik (if he even has one), so hers is Erikson. Hopefully with all the changes it still applies to this archive! And yes, all the musicals and whatnot I mentioned in this chapter and all future chapters were literally pulled randomly from my head or the internet. **

**So, without further delay or explanation, I hope you enjoy chapter one of Opera Ghost!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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I heard a small sound in the back of my head. They were music notes, drifting softly and clashingly across my mind. My first thought was that Father was practicing again, composing a new song and trying to figure out just the right combination. I then remembered that Father was dead. Where was the music coming from?

My eyes snapped open and I nearly slid off the organ bench. My hand had slipped and fallen on the keys randomly. I blinked rapidly, trying to figure out where I was for a moment. A soft groan filtered from my lips. I had fallen asleep at my organ, _again_, composing songs for Chris and me to practice with.

One could only guess what time it was now. Living in the bottom of an opera house, I didn't have the privilege of being able to look out a window and estimating. I did, however, glance at a clock I had standing near the wall just to see that it was getting near noon-time. "Fantastique…" I muttered.

The mirrors around me showcased my rumpled clothing and tangled blonde hair. That was all I needed; yet another reminder of how late I was getting to my day. I shucked off my suit and grabbed a towel, wrapping my robe about my person. Usually when I awoke in the morning, my first act was to bathe in a deeply secluded part of the underground lake. However, today it would have to be rushed.

Once I had finished with that chore, I began to get myself properly dressed for the day. My usual outfit was quite…masculine, to put it bluntly, but it served the proper purpose. Besides, I wasn't about to go out and try to fuddle my way around all the shops in Paris when I could just adjust all the clothes my father left me. I slid on the gray vest over my plain white shirt and immediately did all the buttons up to my neck.

I gazed at myself in the mirror. Dressed in black from head to toe, I looked as respectable as any Phantom should. At least, in my mind; usually a woman in this day and age would dress in "jeans" and what I believed is referred to as a "graphic tee". Though, these are things I had only heard of from Sophie. This brought to my mind what a Phantom would look like in modern dress. The image was much less than ideal.

My long black cape was hanging on a hook next to the mirror (the largest and most looked into of my collection). I wasted no time in clasping it about my neck. "And, that leaves only the mask."

Upon my desk, in all its alabaster glory, lay my half-mask. I picked it up and slid it onto my face, turning to look at my finished product. My self-satisfied smile vanished as an uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach. I didn't need the mask, and in fact I hated hiding my face, but family traditions dictated that I had to wear it.

I grabbed my rapier and hooked it onto my belt before I left my lair for the upper world of the Palais Garnier, or as I still referred to it, the Opera Populaire. For all my life had I lived here, in the flooded basement of an opera house. Because of this, I have watched many ballets, operas, plays, musicals, and whatever else, from _Swan Lake_ to _Don Giovanni _to _Rent_. I preferred the classical and old fashioned works to modern productions.

It wasn't long before I had snuck my way to Box 5, which had, by now, been nicknamed "The Phantom's Threshold". I leaned back in my chair and kicked my boots up on the ledge, crossing my ankles. Right now the cast was rehearsing an American musical, _Wicked_, which chronicled the early life of a certain witch in literature. Personally I had no idea what it really was about; I had never read anything beyond what was in my father's library. I usually read music notes over words anyway.

I nodded my head in time to a rather pleasant song, enjoying the free entertainment. It turned to a cringe when Trixie Adams began to sing. She was one of the few people in this opera house that I dreadfully wished I could take my rapier to and run her though. Beatrice, as I called her out of spite, was actually an American actress who came from Broadway in New York to further her career. Why Philippe hired her, I will never know.

She was nothing more than a bratty child with a horrid voice. No, that was too harsh; she was a snobbish drama queen who had a less-than-perfect voice and needed to be replaced. I enjoyed playing my pranks upon her most of all. She was learning French, yes, but not fast enough. So, whenever I talked to her, I made sure it was all in the fastest French that I could possibly sling from my lips when I felt particularly cruel.

"Non! Mademoiselle Adams, your voice is flat again!" Felix Giry, the director, yelled.

I sat up straight with a smirk. _Of course it is; she can't sing, you fools!_ My eyes lazily flitted about the large theatre. For at least a century, my family had protected and ruled over this opera house as the Phantoms. Usually the Opera Ghost was a man, but, alas, I was female.

That never seemed to have stopped my father, François. He taught me everything I would need to know about being the next Opera Ghost, and sent my musical talents through the roof, if you don't mind my expression. That is, he taught me everything I needed to know except how to deal with his death when I was only thirteen…

I shook myself as Christopher Nighting took the stage. A small sigh of longing slipped from my mouth, and I looked around furtively. No one had seemed to hear it. It was embarrassing that I had fallen in love with the man I coached and taught for the past five years in his singing abilities. Not a soul knew about my secret feelings.

Which is exactly how I liked and fully intended to keep it.

I snuck from the box to a doorway backstage. None of the stagehands were around to catch me, so I slipped through and went to stand on one of the catwalks above the stage. This put me just about above Chris's head. He was playing the small part, shall we shall, of an Emerald City guard. The green and white uniform looked very dashing on him, in my opinion.

My ears pricked to hear a footstep. I turned to see a young man walking toward me. My hand went to the hilt of my rapier immediately. "Stay where you are if you value your life," I hissed.

"Uh…" The man threw his hands up defensively. "Don't attack me!"

I relaxed and smirked, flicking a stray bit of blonde hair from my face. "Heh. Came to get a peek at the Phantom, did you?"

"N-no, I just—"

"Ah. I see; you actually came to do your job. I'll get out of your way then." I turned to walk briskly the other way, stopping for only a moment to turn the masked side of my face toward him. "But don't think that I'll let you off so easily if you happen to see me again."

There had been a time when I would have run him through without a second thought; however, I'm not as discreet with my appearances as most Phantoms are, and thus it wasn't entirely out of the ordinary for someone to catch a glimpse of me occasionally, which is exactly why I was a bit more lenient. Once everyone found out that I was a woman, I decided to really just be lazy with my entrances and exits…but not so lazy that they followed me. Oh no, I was smarter than that. I was never caught, never followed, and remained quite mysterious, if I may say.

Taking my leave from the catwalk I made my way backstage creeping up next to Sophia Giry. I took my rapier and held it against her back. "I'll give you one chance for your life…" I whispered.

She gasped and her body stiffened in fear. "Phantom!"

"Tell me, Sophie… What is the Opera Ghost's name?"

She suddenly turned around and grinned. "Marian."

I put my finger to my lips, giggling softly. "Yes, but quiet! I do have a reputation to keep up, here. Sorry for the scare, but I couldn't help myself. You were just begging to be my next victim."

"Victim? Is that all I am to you now?"

"Come off it; you know you're my friend. I would never include you in my victim list." I sheathed my rapier and stood behind her. "Speaking of victims… I haven't annoyed our dear Beatrice, lately, have I?"

"Phantom, no…!"

I cleared my throat and said, rather loudly, "Trixie Adams!" I had thrown my voice to appear behind her.

She shrieked in surprise and whirled around. All rehearsing stopped. I vanished from my current hiding spot to run toward the other side of the room, using shadows as my cloak. "Oh Trixie… Foolish girl…" My voice popped up on the other side of her.

I could tell she was beginning to get flustered, the way her face was turning red and she kept turning in circles. With a chilling laugh I turned to a secret passage that led to the main hallway, which was thankfully empty. I managed to slip back to Box 5 to watch Felix jump up on stage.

"Phantom! Opera Ghost! Show yourself!"

"Amuse me with reasons why." I leaned on the banister of my box with a cocky smile. I loved very few things more than toying with the people of my theatre.

Monsieur Giry shook his head in frustration and began instructing the scene again. I saw Sophie trying to hide her giggling in the background. My smile softened from cocky to genuine. I was glad that I could manage to entertain at least one person.

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**The next chapter, having already been written, should be posted in the next few days. All next week I'll be dreadfully busy, so don't expect anything until the 12th at the earliest from the period of 7-11 of March.**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**-LoRF**

**Don't forget to check out my blog here! aureliaknight!weebly!com (replace ! with .)**


	2. Welcome to the Phantom Lair

**So, as promised, here's chapter two! I know the first chapter was boring, but bear with me. Phantom's very...thoughtful, to put it mildly. Anyway, I'm guessing you can all guess who's supposed to be who, so... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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On the night of the production, I didn't watch. I had no interest in seeing _Wicked_; not only that, but the plotline was lost on me. Instead, I stayed down in my lair and paced back and forth as I tried to think of things to do to banish this boredom that plagued me always.

Few things came first and foremost into my head: composing, playing my organ, playing my plethora of other musical instruments, reading… I did those things all the time, but surely there was something I could entertain myself with? I stopped and stamped my foot in frustration. The action brought a small smile to my lips.

I remembered how my father used to comment on my rather nasty habit of doing that. When I get angry or irritated, I would often slam my foot on the ground (as if that ever helped my situations). It was one of the few things about me that hadn't changed throughout the years, other than the fact that I was hopelessly lonely.

Yes, I had Sophie for a friend and her family as my "caretakers", and I had Chris as my student, but when it got right down to it, I spent hours and hours and HOURS down here alone, with nothing to do except think about how lonely I was. A whoosh of air escaped my lungs when I ran and dove onto my bed, a place I often went when I felt the wave of despair consume me.

The sheets and pillows smelt of me, of course, but also of the warm cherry wood that was the swan-shaped bed. I breathed it in deeply, thinking of a time when I wasn't so lonely… When my father was still alive, and teaching me everything I needed to know. When WE would spend hours and hours down here, just the two of us, singing and making music.

He died suddenly when I was thirteen. Eva and Felix Giry didn't tell me what of right away, but I later learned it was of heart failure. He had apparently had poor circulation, among other health issues, connected with living in a dank cave his entire life. Because of this, Sophie took me out to cavort around Paris every once in a while. No one recognized me in modern clothes, no mask, and large sunglasses (my eyes were extremely sensitive to sunlight).

I sat up in my bed. What was I doing? I can't just sit around and reminisce. I have work to do, people to haunt, a theatre to run, a student to teach, music to compose, songs to sing…! Honestly, how foolish of me for thinking that I should be bored…

Glancing at one of my many clocks, I saw that it was nearly time for the production to be over. I hurriedly grabbed my cape and mask, putting them on as I rushed through the tunnels and passageways. When I reached my destination that was his dressing room, I was relieved to see that he had not come yet.

I slipped in through the mirror-door to place a crisp, white note on the nearly empty vanity. The doorknob jiggled; I dashed back to my hiding spot just before Chris and Trixie walked in. She closed the door behind her. "You were great."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I was just a guard. You actually had a part."

"I'm just glad I wasn't the one painted green."

To this, they both laughed. I glared at the actress, wishing that she would leave. I knew that she held feelings for Christopher, just as I did, but I didn't want nor did I need her interfering with my plans. She chuckled nervously. "So… Um… A lot of us are going to dinner soon. Wanna come?"

It was all I could do to not rush out and stab her.

Chris shook his head. "Sorry; I've got plans. Singing lessons."

_Very good, my student…_

"You know, you spend an awful lot of time with these "singing lessons"." She raised an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to think that you've got a teacher-student thing going on here."

_Tais-toi, Trixie! We do not! …Though I wish we did. Besides, we're only a few months apart in age, so what business is it of yours?_

He looked away from her. "We don't have anything going on, Trix. She just helps me sing. She's…my teacher. Now, please leave. I don't think she'd react well if she saw you here."

_You have no idea…_

"Fine, fine… I'll go. But dinner is still an option, ok?" She turned and walked out of the room, finally leaving us alone.

Chris noticed the note and went over to read it. A smile spread across his face as his eyes scanned the paper. I was glad he liked my note; that, in turn, made me happy as well. However, now was not the time to dwell on things such as that.

"_Insolent girl, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in MY triumph!_" The notes that were my voice seemed to echo in the small room.

He turned around slowly. "Phantom… I knew you'd come. I'm sorry she followed me here; she said she had something to tell me and she did."

"Hmph. She has delayed us long enough, Christopher." I looked at him from behind the mirror, whilst he stood in one spot, unknowing where I was.

"When will I see you? Our lessons would go more smoothly if I was to see you in person…mon ange de la musique."

He had taken to calling me that lately, not that I complained. I bit my lip before sighing in defeat. "_Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror; I am there inside!_" I pulled the mirror aside after lighting a torch on the wall.

Chris came toward me slowly. I smiled and held out my gloved hand, feeling his palm in mine soon enough. "Follow me closely," I whispered, grabbing the torch and leading him down to my lair. He would be the only person other than the Giry family to see it.

"_In sleep she sang to me; in dreams she came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind…_" His rich voice filled the halls and my ears pleasantly.

I turned the masked side of my face toward him, walking sideways now down into the depths of the opera house. "_Sing once again with me! Our strange duet… My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind._"

This was one of the songs that I had spent a lot of time teaching him. Switching the male and female parts was a good exercise for the both of us, since we would have to find the right notes in to best fit our respective voices on a whim. He knew that if he missed a note, I'd make him start over; if I missed a note, we would stop lessons earlier than usual. This was a pact that we used for a lot of our duets and had used since we began these lessons five years ago. Unfortunately for him, I hardly ever missed a pitch.

"_Those who have seen your face draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear._" He hadn't stopped staring at my mask, either.

"_It's me they hear!_"

We had reached the small gondola by this point. I ushered him into it and told him to sit, as I jumped on the back and pushed us off. Together we began to sing in unison, some of the words sounding odd since they were two different lines.

"_My spirit and your voice…_" I sang as he did this: "_Your spirit and my voice…_"

"_In one combined! The Phantom of the Opera is there… Inside–_" We split off again, with the "my mind" and "your mind" differences.

Chris glanced back at me. "_She's there, the Phantom of the Opera…_" He began vocalizing notes, some higher in his range and some lower. I had never given him a definite range to sing in there.

I decided to give him a definite range now. "Sing, my Angel of Music!" I nodded, jerking my thumb upward. "Higher!" I mouthed.

His eyes went wide, but he obeyed my command anyway. I grinned and gave him my sign of approval. "Sing, my Angel!"

Chris took a breath before launching into a higher note. I was a little surprised; I didn't want him to strip his vocal chords. What on earth prompted him to risk that? I tapped him with the gondola pole, shaking my head. "Not so much," I whispered.

Once he went back to more comfortable range, I smiled once more. "Sing for me!"

Yes… I could tell I was in control now. We drifted into the part of the lake that I lived on. "Sing… Sing, my Angel!"

He went a notch higher. "SING FOR ME!" My voice was hysteric, almost.

The final note was the highest of all. I grounded the small boat and jumped ashore, removing my cape and tossing it in the general direction of the hook it usually rested upon. I removed my rapier from my belt and set it leaning against the wall. My arms were opened wide. "Welcome, Monsieur Nighting. Welcome to my home."

"You live here?" He stepped up on the shore and looked around at all the candles I had lit. "That's quite a fire hazard…"

"I live on a lake; fire doesn't bother me." I smiled slightly. "Please, make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink, perhaps?"

He shook his head. "Phantom, this place is…"

"Cold? Dark? Wet?" I looked away from him, wincing.

"No, not at all. I was going to say that it's really cool, actually. I can't believe you live down here." He walked up to my organ.

I went up behind him. "Would you like a tour? It's not much, but… It'd be something to get out of the way before your lesson."

He nodded vigorously. I took his hand again and led him through the few furnished caverns, including my instrument storage room and insanely small kitchen (it was kept running by a generator fueled by gasoline. No electricity to be found in my home!). When we passed a darker passage, he stopped. I looked back at him. "Chris, what is it?"

"Our sets!"

My face paled. "Erm… I can explain all of that…later."

"You have all of our stolen sets!"

It was true; I had stolen quite a few set pieces in order to punish Philippe for not paying me and for not leaving Box 5 open. This was actually a recurring thing; usually I would steal some sets or some money. It just depended on what struck my fancy at the time.

"Well, Philippe never listens to anything I say!" I clenched my hands at my sides. "The tour is over. Come with me; to my organ we go."

"No."

I stopped and stiffened my body. My head turned toward him slowly. "Excusez-moi?"

"I'm going back to the theatre. Philippe has to know where all our stuff went." He went back to where the gondola lay motionless.

I followed him, grabbing his arm. "Chris, no! You WILL NOT do any such thing! Besides, without me, you'll get hopelessly lost, and I don't want you falling into one of my traps."

"Sorry, but I'm leaving."

"No you're not!" I grabbed a candelabrum that thankfully didn't have a burning candle in it and smashed it against his head. He collapsed at my feet.

I threw the object to the side and backed away. "Oh my…" I nudged him with my boot, hearing him moan softly. "Great. Just great… What am I supposed to do now?" Sighing heavily, I reached down and began to drag him toward my bedroom. I couldn't just let him lie in the middle of my lair, now could I?

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**Hitting her love/student over the head with a candlestick holder... FTW! Besides, I couldn't think of anything that would make dear Chris faint. . **

**Reviews are appreciated, read, and sometimes replied to!**

**-LoRF**


	3. Musical of My Life

**This is such a short chapter compared to my other ones... Oh well, it's still important. Yes, I used the song "Learn to Be Lonely" for the beginning. It's such a pretty, sad piece; I love it so. Anyway, hope you enjoy chapter three!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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"_Child of the wilderness, born into emptiness… Learn to be lonely. Learn to find your way in darkness. Who will be there for you? Comfort and care for you? Learn to be lonely. Learn to be your one companion. Never dreamed out in the world, there are arms to hold you. You've always known your heart was on its own…_" My fingers softly trickled out the tune on my organ as I sang along. It was an old song that my father taught me when I was very young. The words were sad, the melody was sad, but it was something in the way of the Phantom's theme song, which is exactly why I loved it so.

I heard the faint footstep behind me. I stopped playing and smiled. "Ah… So, my student wakes. Did you enjoy your nap?"

He walked to stand beside me. "What did you hit me with?"

"A candelabrum."

"Why?"

"To keep you from leaving and potentially getting yourself killed in a trap." I started playing again, humming the words.

He watched me in silence before his attention turned to my mask. "_Who was that shape in the shadows? Who's is that face in the mask…?_" His hands gently went up to my face.

I leaned into his touch. "Please…" The faint plea escaped my lips. I didn't want him to let go. I wanted to stay this way forever. My eyes closed slowly.

Suddenly, he ripped off my mask. I shoved him backward as my hand flew up to cover the right side of my face. "Christopher!" I shouted his name angrily. "Sacrebleue! Comment osez-vous! What did you think you were doing?" I walked away from him, breathing heavily.

I began to feel quite stupid. There was nothing wrong with my face; no scars, no deformities… Why was I doing this? It was a promise to my father before he died, that's right. I took a deep breath and went back to my organ. "Give me my mask, s'il vous plaît."

He held it out for me. I noticed his hand was shaking, but I simply put it back on and stood over him. "I'm…sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." I helped him up and cleared my throat. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine…"

I looked away in shame. "I should get you back to the theatre. They'll be wondering where you got off to. Don't… Don't tell anyone what you've seen."

"I won't. I promise."

I gazed up into his dark blue eyes. "I'll hold you to that." Idly, I began to wonder what color his eyes and my emerald ones would make… Shaking myself, I went to the gondola and picked up the pole. "Come on then."

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Surely, having one's heart beat this fast wasn't natural, nor could it have been good for my health. I was literally on the edge of my seat, my eyes wide. It had been a few weeks since I had Chris in my lair, and Philippe just announced that the next production they would be putting on was none other than _The Phantom of the Opera_. He said that Christopher was to play Raoul, Sophie was to be Meg, and as for Christine…

"Christine Daaé will be played by Mademoiselle Adams."

I stood up in Box 5 with a shout. Everyone looked up at me. I rushed from the box to the stage. "Non! Non! Trixie is your worst possible choice for Christine!"

This was one of the few times that I've appeared in front of everyone. I was growing exceedingly angry, and Philippe's next comment didn't help any. He smiled mockingly and looked at the paper in his hand. "Why, Phantom, I was going to suggest that you play as the Opera Ghost."

I whipped out my rapier and held it at his throat. "Say something like that again and I will not hesitate to run you through!"

He gulped and backed away. "My apologies…"

"As for the role of Christine… Trixie is the OPPOSITE of the person you want. She would be best cast as La Carlotta, for her voice talents are just right for that part."

Trixie turned completely red and made the motion to lunge for my throat. I aimed my sword at her next. "Don't move, Adams."

Felix Giry stepped up to me. "Then who do you think would be perfect for Christine, Phantom?"

I smiled slowly. "There is one other person I know of that could play the part. I met her once when I was out. The only problem is that she's a bit skittish about large audiences. Oh, but she's a fantastic actress. And her singing is absolutely magnificent!"

"Who is it?" Philippe seemed rather interested at this point.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly…" I sheathed my rapier and turned my back to him. "Of course, I suppose I could… No, I can't. There's no way she'd do it."

Trixie scoffed and placed her hands on her hips. "I bet she doesn't even exist! You're just making this up!"

"That is where you're wrong, Beatrice. She's perfectly real." I smirked. "Fine. Her name is Cadence. Cadence Willbury."

I heard Sophie's small gasp. Cadence was the name I went by when she would drag me around Paris. She quickly figured out that I fully intended upon playing Christine under the alias of Cadence Willbury. "She's a lovely little blonde I met once. I'm afraid I don't have any contact information, but I'm sure that if you do a bit of advertising, she'd find you."

"Why are you helping us?" Monsieur Strauss asked slowly.

"Because, I don't want my own story to be ruined by one of the lead roles being played by an inadequate actress." I went to stand over one of my trapdoors on the stage. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take my exit. Good luck finding Mademoiselle Willbury." Slamming my heel on a certain board, the door opened beneath me and I disappeared.

I suddenly remember why I stopped using that trapdoor. It opened up right over the lake. I fell with a great splash and gasped for air when I broke the surface again. Fortunately it was somewhat shallow here, so I was able to walk back to my lair with the water only up to my waist. It grew shallower as I got closer to my home, but that didn't make me any less wet…or any less irritated, for that matter.

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**Cadence Willbury sounds like a British name, doesn't it... Oh well. If anyone has a problem with it they can take it up with Marian...who will have her rapier ready, since she lacks the ability to punjab people like her great-something grandfather Erik.**

**Seriously people, please review. I don't care if you're logged in or not, heck, I don't even care if you have an account or not! **

**-LoRF**


	4. He's All I Asked For

**Here's the last upload for a week, at least. I might get something up on Tuesday, but don't expect anything. This chapter is shorter as well, but one of my favourites. **

**Can anyone say, "Multiple personality issues" for our dear Phantom? Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Only a few days after my angry outburst at the choice for the role of Christine, I decided it was time for Cadence to make her grand entrance. Donning the street clothes Sophie had given me, I tied my hair back in a sloppy ponytail and shoved my feet into the black Converse sneakers. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, for I preferred my black boots, but she said that this is what people wore nowadays. Feeling ready, I used the back entrance to my lair to get out into the streets of Paris.

The sunlight seemed particularly strong since I wasn't wearing my sunglasses. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and winced. "Light… Ow…" A small voice inside me forced me to press onward, so with a sigh, I ran around to the front of the building and went in the entrance there. It was then that I realized that I had never used this doorway before.

_It's a little disorienting going in the normal way… Oh well._ I was thankful for the shade of the building's interior. Making my way quickly to the theatre, I took a deep breath before pushing open the door.

Felix seemed to be waiting for me. "Ah!"

I walked up to him timidly, for in honesty I was a little scared. "Um… Are you…Felix Giry? I was told to find you…" I had hitched my voice to be slightly higher than normal.

"Oui, that's me. You must be Cadence."

"Yeah… Um, is the part for Christine still open?"

He smiled. "Of course! Come on up and we'll see what you're made of."

I jumped up on the stage and cleared my throat nervously. Felix stood in front of me. "You see, the Opera Ghost told us to look for you. She had some very nice things to say about your talents."

"The Opera Ghost…? I've never met her."

"Well, you probably didn't know it was her, but, you have met." He looked over at Chris. "I want you to sing the duet with Chris. He's playing Raoul. Do you know the song "All I Ask of You"? That's the song you're singing."

I nodded. "Yes, I know it."

Chris came up to me and smiled comfortingly. "Hey, relax. I don't bite."  
Apparently I looked more nervous than I felt, because otherwise he wouldn't have said that. I jumped as the music started, a mysterious recording emanating from…somewhere. Chris chuckled softly before beginning his part. "_No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you._"

He got very much into character by the way he suddenly wrapped his arms around me. I squeaked in surprise and my eyes widened. Chris merely smiled. "_Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you._"

I became engrossed in the mystical words floating from his lips (he would never know why, however). So engrossed, in fact, that I nearly missed my entrance. "_Say you love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you._"

"_Let me be your shelter. Let me be your light. You're safe; no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you._" He turned me so that my back was against his front side.

He was warm against me. I felt a blush begin to pop up on my cheeks, and I wished that I had one of my full-face masks on. "_All I want is freedom; a world with no more night. And you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me._"

I turned around once more. He took both of my hands in his. "_Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude._"

Yes, oh yes… Please, Chris… If only the words he sang was a reflection for how he really felt about me, about the Phantom… Alas, it nearly broke my heart to know that it was all an act.

He continued with the same look in his eye, the one that spoke of nothing save for friendship. "_Say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too… Christine, that's all I ask of you._"

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word, and I will follow you._" The words meant so much more than what he believed. I wanted him to know how I felt, but… As the Phantom, I could not tell him. Oh, the trials of being a female Phantom in love with your Angel of Music…!

The song went into unison now. "_Share each day with me, each night, each morning._"

I reached up to touch his cheek. "_Say you love me…_"

"_You know I do._"

"_Love me… That's all I ask of you._" These words together grew soft as we leaned forward. My heart began to pump ever faster. Please stay in character, Christopher, please! Just let me do this–

The music stopped abruptly. We parted, leaving me feeling cold and more than a trifle disappointed. Felix clapped me on the back. "You're our new Christine Daaé! Congratulations!"

"Erm, thank you…?" I was still reeling from the moment of my audition.

Chris came back to me. "You know, Cadence… Your voice sounds awfully familiar. You sort of look familiar, too. Have we met before?"

"No, I don't think so." I sincerely hoped that he wouldn't try to look into my startling resemblance with the Phantom too much.

"Huh. For a minute there, I could've sworn you looked exactly like the Phantom…"

"That's funny, isn't it?" I smiled weakly. "Well then, if I'm done here, I'll just be going—"

He grabbed my arm. "Oh no, now that you're here, we have to rehearse. Philippe wants this production to be impeccable. He's hoping that if the play is good, then maybe the Opera Ghost won't demand so much. Personally I think he's crazy, but… I guess it's worth a try."

I nodded, a small smile on my face. How crazy, indeed. Just for that, I mentally made a note to charge even more next time. This would not be left unnoticed. Philippe Strauss, you are much more desperate than I ever imagined.

Speak of la diable…

"Now, Mademoiselle Willbury, I must warn you of a certain…problem we have here."

"P-problem?" Surely he didn't mean something else…

He pointed up to Box 5. "See that? We refer to it as "The Phantom's Threshold"."

"Really now? Why?"

"Because, and I'm not sure if you're familiar with the whole legend of the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera terrorizes us. Constantly she's stealing our set pieces and our funds, sabotaging the stage and those actors she doesn't particularly care for! Chris is the only one I know of that's been down to her lair. And even then he won't breathe a word of his experiences."

I stole a glance in my student's direction. "Oh really?" For a moment, my voice reverted back to its normal range. I quickly cleared my throat and giggled nervously. "How terrible! I can't even imagine how scared he must have been."

"Indeed…" He gave me a wary look before walking off.

Now that I had auditioned, I felt strangely drained. I gazed over at Chris. He smiled, sending me a small wave.

It was all worth it. I was willing to risk everything to be with him. My life, my alias, my home… All of it, just so that, be it only for a little while, he and I could play at being Raoul and Christine. I relished the feeling of his body against mine, and I thrilled to think of the scenes in which our love for each other be announced. Oh, how the tide had turned for me! What could possibly, in all the heavens and in Paris, go wrong now?

* * *

**And, to end, we have the overly-used, poor foreshadowing of an obvious question. "What could go wrong?" Well... Everything, quite frankly. But anyway...**

**Review, please! (not to be read in a begging sort of tone of voice)**

**-LoRF**


	5. Singer's Nightmare

**I had a little time this morning so I was able to get this up. Now we've come to the start of the week where I will not be uploading anything (except Tuesday and any other morning I have time). Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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I coughed harshly, blood flecks splattering my fist. I once again cursed the underground lake I lived on and the unstable gondola in which I had to traverse it. Most importantly, I cursed the dank corridors, the cold air traveling through the shafts–

Another cough spluttered through my lips.

"She'll be staying with us."

What? No, I will not leave my lair! I've taken ill before; this is no different.

"With proper care she should be well enough to go back to rehearsals in a few weeks."

Did he just say…weeks?

"Though, be sure she doesn't strain herself. Cadence doesn't seem too happy about this whole ordeal."

Strain myself, ha… I can barely whisper. What makes you think I'll possibly be talking normally, much less SINGING? Fool…

"Understood. Merci."

I was led from the bright white room to an empty hallway. My mind was still in a fog from earlier. The last thing I remembered was fainting on the stage, and Chris's face above me… Ah yes, it was all coming back now.

Soon I was being helped into an automobile, my second car ride of the day and of my life. Sophie climbed into the back seat next to me. She laid her hand on mine. "Marian…"

I glanced up at her, my eyes glossy with fatigue and confusion. "Hm?"

"You'll be fine. He said that if you just rest and talk as little as possible, you'll get over this sooner than you think."

"Mm." I nodded weakly, turning to lean my head against the cool glass.

Laryngitis. Oh, how I dreaded it. Father once told me that he referred to it as "The Singer's Nightmare". Well, I see what he meant, now. My mother, Marissé, died of it, among other things, when I was very young. We had both taken ill with it. I was the only one to survive.

Maman, I remembered vaguely, had been a wonderful singer. She would sing me to sleep, every night. Her voice wasn't fit for theatre, but instead for something like a church. It was calming and special, soft and sweet, and altogether lovely but not extraordinary like my father's. Her true talent laid in the painting and drawing arts, not musical ones.

My arrival at the large apartment building jerked me from my thoughts. Sophie tapped my arm. "Marian, we're here. Mother's gone on to prepare a room for you. Come on." She got out of the car on her side and walked around to open my door.

I used her for support as she led me into the building. "Sophie, thank you…for this. For everything…" I whispered. Fortunately the lobby was virtually empty, so we would have no trouble getting to one of the upper floors. She dragged me into a small square room.

Through my half-consciousness and undoubted confusion, I began to grow anxious. What was this contraption that she had me on? I looked down at the floor as the strange box began to move upward. She, having noticed my expression, giggled and patted my shoulder. "Don't worry. It's like going through one of your trapdoors, only this one goes up and down, instead of just down. It's called an elevator."

Like one of my trapdoors…? "Mm." I staggered backward as it shuddered to a halt. Hah! My trapdoors never did that. This "elevator" was something I decided I wasn't fond of. She ushered me into the hallway and down a few doors.

I leaned against the wall as she opened her own door. For some reason, she lived in her own apartment while her parents lived a floor above. I remember her explanation being something about "individual independence" or something or other… Either way, it was something I would probably never understand, since I had lived alone for the past seven years. Once the knob was turned, she dragged me inside.

The walls were white, the carpet white, and most of the furniture white as well. Sophie sighed and kept her hands on my shoulders. "Just a little farther. You'll be staying with me."

"Oui…" I stumbled into an adjoining room. A bed was set against the far wall. Light filtered in through a window. She let go of me, just for me to literally throw myself on the mattress.

She smiled slightly. "Just, um… Yeah, I'll be here when you wake up. Then I'll explain everything else." She began to leave, turning once more to simply say, "Bonne nuit, je suppose…"

I waited until she was gone into the living room before I completely broke down. Hot tears rolled down my pale face, staining the pillowcase. How could this have happened? Everything was going so well for me, the first time a shot of good luck had ever come my way. Then the gondola tipped…

At least Chris had been there to catch me when I collapsed during rehearsals. We had been practicing the scene in which Christine is to go down to the Phantom's lair with him. Raoul had "left" the dressing room, and I stood up, feeling my head spin and everything go slowly black before my eyes.

When I had woken, I was in a vehicle with Eva and Sophie. It was then that I knew it was over. The rest of that trip I didn't want to remember. But I did know that I was here now, in Sophie's apartment, waiting for this to all pass.

The light played on the wall I faced. My eyes began to close, and I felt myself swiftly descend into my dreams.

* * *

**So yes, we have our answer to her question yesterday. I love writing about her confusion with all this stuff she's never seen before. "Elevator? What's that?" Ha, fun stuff!**

**Leave a review, s'il vous plait!**

**-LoRF**


	6. Notes and Letters

**Ok, I'm still feeling pretty hyper from the energy drink I had earlier (I'm not used to caffeine, so even one cup of coffee sends me off the walls) so I managed to get this chapter done. Here's two chapters in one day for you wonderful people! Hopefully this will hold you over for the rest of the week... **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

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"Christopher–

From where I watch in Box 5 and what I hear elsewhere in my theatre, you appear to be doing well with your part. Raoul is a noble role; act it well.

I also hear that M. Strauss has found Cadence. I do so hope that she lives up to the praise I gave her prior to her arrival here. Her talents are good, and I believe she will make for an excellent Christine. You should count yourself a lucky young man.

Sing well, my student. Remember all that I've taught you.

–Phantom"

* * *

"Opera Ghost,

Thanks, as usual. I've missed you lately. Where'd you go? It'd be nice to have a little extra practice for the big musical. I know it means a lot to you, and I want to do the best I can.

Cadence is sick, actually. She somehow got laryngitis and she's staying with Sophie right now. She says that she's doing better, but… I don't know, I'm just worried. She's a really good Christine, and for once I don't want Trixie getting the main role. You were right; she's best as Carlotta.

Speaking of which, you and Cadence look a lot alike. You're both blondes, have green eyes, and you both sound nearly the same. Any ideas?

Your student,

Chris"

* * *

"Mon élève–

Ironic that you should ask. I have been struck with a sudden wave of inspiration that I simply cannot ignore. So, until I have finished composing and writing to my heart's content, I'm afraid you're on your own. Rest assured I'll be there to help you as opening night draws nearer. You have my promise.

Ah, the poor girl. I'm sure that Sophia will do a fine job getting her back to health in no time. As for the abomination that is Beatrice Adams, I completely agree. That untalented, unrefined, and unsophisticated child needs to be taught a thing or two about real theatrics. I'll be happier if or when she finally decides to leave Paris and never return.

How peculiar. I'm afraid I hadn't noticed we looked so alike. However, I did notice we sound similar. Perhaps it's merely a coincidence, or a freak of nature? Take a two-headed snake for example. It's a rarity, but it does happen.

–Phantom"

* * *

"O.G.,

How are you finding time to write these, then? And to give them to me and take them back?

Come on, Trix isn't that bad. She's just a little…vain, at times. And she really is a good singer. You just haven't given her a chance. Maybe if you took a little time to work with some of the other actors and actresses, you wouldn't hate them so much.

Yeah… She's pretty, though. Is that what you look like under your mask? When I took it off that one time, you moved too quickly for me to see anything…

–Chris"

* * *

"Chris:

You mean too much to me, of course. One finds the time to do things for those they care about. Besides, it's rude not to answer a letter.

She's more than just a "little" vain. And I'll believe that she's a good singe when I hear it! You've heard me; compare! She's the one who's had lessons and whatnot as well; I'm the one that _gives_ the lessons!

What lies beneath my mask is my business and solely my business. Maybe I'm deformed and disfigured; maybe I'm perfectly normal. Your decision.

–P."

* * *

"Phantom,

Oh. Well then. Thanks!

Ok, yeah, she's vain when you first talk to her. But once you get to know her, she's actually nice. Comparing her voice to yours… You win, hands down. How did you get to be so good with music in the first place?

Right, right… I refuse to believe that you could possibly too disfigured underneath it. The left side of your face is too… I don't know, you just don't look like anything major could mar it.

Speaking of your face, I miss seeing it. Well, half of it. When are you coming back? It's been two weeks! I'm beginning to get lonely.

The epitome of loneliness,

Chris"

* * *

"Chris,

You're very welcome.

Hm. She has never shown me any of this "kindness". But thank you for your own kind words. As for the origin of my talents, I was born with them. My father just helped me develop them.

Haha! Thank you anyway. Like I said, I'm going to leave you guessing to your content as to what is beneath my mask.

Oh… In honesty, I miss you as well. I'll be back as soon as I've relaxed. I managed to fall down one of my trapdoors the other day, landing not entirely gracefully afterward. Be patient. I'll be back soon enough.

Just for the record, you can't possibly know what true loneliness is until you've spent years and years in the bottom of an opera house…alone.

Your Angel,

Opera Ghost"

* * *

"Opera Ghost,

Well, quite frankly, you haven't shown her any, either! I mean, you KNOW she can't speak French very well, what's the first thing you say to her? "Bonjour! J'espère que vous allez avoir une journée horrible. Si vous n'êtes pas, s'il vous plaît, permettez-moi de faire une mauvaise journée pour vous par vous insulter dans une langue que vous ne connaissez pas! Vous n'avez pas de talent, vous devriez retourner à New York, je vous hais d'une passion un peu moins que la passion que j'ai pour la musique, je secrètement tracer votre chute définitive, et très honnêtement vous êtes juste un horrible, horrible actrice!" HONESTLY! Was it really necessary to go to all that trouble just to confuse her and then make her feel bad when Sophie translated it all for her?

As for the rest of your letter… I'm shocked, really. I didn't know you had that much raw talent. Your dad must've been proud.

Hmm, I guess… I guess that you're really wearing a mask under that first mask and that you're really an old lady who lost all her beauty to some sort of evil wizard or something. Or that you're perfectly normal.

Are you ok? If you need me to, I'll attempt to come down there and help you… Just don't do anything stupid. But yeah, I miss you a lot more than I thought I would.

Yeah, you're right… I guess I wouldn't really know what that's like, huh?

Singing-ly,

Christopher"

* * *

"Chris,

I never once said all of those things at once! I use a different insult each time. But I suppose in effect, I _have_ said all those things to her. And yes, it was definitely worth it! Beatrice is one of the few people that can really make me angry. Angry enough to do something rash and drastic, at least.

I'm sure he was, too. He never really told me.

Oh please, where in Paris are you getting these ideas? Just keep guessing, because I'm not going to give you any hints or say yes or no to anything.

Yes, I'm fine. Minor bruises never hurt anyone, and this isn't the first time it's happened. In fact, I should be back very soon. As in, later this week. I shall start up our lessons again then. I'm expecting that you will have improved on your own. You don't necessarily need me to be there for you to practice, you know.

No, no you would not… It's not fun, just for your information. Don't even get me STARTED on how many nights I'll lie awake in bed imagining I hear a rat or something. I should probably think about investing in a cat.

Sincerely,

Your teacher,

Le Fantôme de l'Opera"

I slid the white paper in the envelope with a smile. This would be one letter I was going to deliver myself. Three weeks had passed quickly, what with Chris and I corresponding like this. Sophie was truly the most kind and loving friend anyone could ask for. Not only did she offer–no, _demand_ that I stay with her until I recovered, but she also took care of these notes between him and I.

Still, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Part of all these letters was a little white lie: I hadn't fallen down one of my trapdoors; in fact, I hadn't even been allowed in the Opera House for the past weeks. For some reason this weighed heavily on my mind. Fortunately I was good at coming up with further lies to compliment the current one.

"Marian! Come on, we gotta go!" Sophie called to me.

"I'm coming; do be patient!" I grabbed the envelope and stuffed it into my pocket. Tonight… Tonight I could finally be the Phantom again. But first, I had to keep up the façade of Cadence a little while longer.

* * *

**So...many...page breaks! I'm sorry for that. Honestly I couldn't think of a better way to have the transition of time during which Marian can't talk, so... Yeah... Anyway, for those of you who were wondering what that huge paragraph was of French and were too lazy to go to an online translator, it means something to this effect: **

**"Hello! I hope you're having a horrible day! If you're not, please, allow me to make it a bad day by insulting you in a language you don't know! You have no talent, you should go back to New York, I hate you with a passion only slightly less than the passion I have for music, I secretly plot your ultimate downfall, and quite honestly you are just a horrible, horrible actress."**

**I had to use a translator to get it all into French in the first place, so... My French isn't that good yet, so if you speak fluently, excuse the mistakes that the translator made.**

** Laissez un commentaire!**

**-LoRF**


	7. I Hate Trixie Even More Now

**As promised, as this is my one day of the week that I won't be hyper from caffeine or busy, here's the update. Seriously, last one of the week...unless I'm up all night again like I was last night. So anyway, this was probably my favourite chapter to write so far! It's lovely... I love it. I think you'll love it. Do enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the snippets of random singing that are words from my own songs.**

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The alabaster mask weighed heavily in my hands. I poked my finger through the eyehole and sighed heavily. "Do I really want to do this…?"

My heart thumped uncomfortably in my bosom. The past months had been magical, and left a lasting impression on my mind. Never, in all the twenty years of my life, had I ever felt so…loved. So wanted. So _needed_.

"_Could I leave you behind me…? Leave you behind me and return to the life I've known…_" I stood up and went to stand in front of one of my mirrors.

My long blonde hair curled around my face in unkempt locks. I noticed a tear in my grey vest. My favourite pair of tall black boots was in desperate need of a shine. Overall I looked… "I look like I just got done with a swim whilst wearing my clothes."

And as for my mask…

I looked down at it and frowned, feeling tears pooling in my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to run up to the theatre and into Chris's arms. I wanted to tell him everything, from my alias to my true whereabouts during that letter correspondence to whatever else pertained to me in any way. How was I to keep this up when my love and desperate need for him grew stronger with every passing hour?

"_You're all I ever wanted… Chris, love me, as I love you…_" Sometimes, in moments of extreme emotion, I would lapse into song randomly. They never had melodies or scores, and never really even proper wording, but they worked.

My hand came up to my face as I slowly slid the accessory on. It fitted my features perfectly, as usual. "Chris… I'm so sorry…"

"MARIAN!"

I turned to where the shout had come. "Sophie? What do you think you're doing? And for God's sake, where are you?"

"GET UP HERE RIGHT NOW!"

I didn't see her, but the tunnels funneled her voice to me perfectly. Grabbing my cape, I ran to where it sounded she was. Sure enough, she stood at the end of the tunnel with a flashlight. I went up to her and shook my head. "Sacrebleue, Sophie! What is it that's so important?"

She grabbed my wrist and began to literally drag me to the surface. "It's about Chris. You need to see this!"

A cold feeling spread through my system. "Is he ok?"

"You make that decision!"

She shoved me into Box 5 just to see that they were walking off the stage. "I'm confused."

"Follow them!" She hissed, pushing me into the hallway.

It didn't take me long to find them, and even shorter to figure out where they were going. But why the roof? I managed to hide myself behind a statue as they came through the door. This seemed more than a little familiar…

"See Trix? I told you the view was great."

She looked around and gasped, a happy smile plastered across her face. "You were right! I guess I probably shouldn't have doubted you."

"You doubt me?" He feigned insult. The frown on his face swiftly turned upward as he gathered her in his arms. "Trix, there's something I need to tell you."

My breath caught in my throat. "No…" I swallowed hard, feeling altogether very nervous and very, VERY depressed.

She looked up at him and down at his arms. "Um… Can I guess?" She giggled slightly.

"Go ahead."

"Well, if I'm right, then the answer's yes."

He grinned and twirled her around before setting her down on the ground again. "Trixie, ever since you came I knew there was something about you that I loved… I just couldn't get enough of it."

"Well, I have that effect on men, you know…" She smirked and shook her head. "Just kidding! Seriously, though, do continue."

"I just… I want to be with you. If that's all right with you." He gazed down at her.

I pressed myself against the statue. The tears that had been pooling earlier now streamed freely down my face. I clapped my hand over my mouth so that none of my sobs would be heard. Turning slightly, I could see that she was hugging him tightly.

He pulled away from her and took her hand. "I want to take you somewhere. Come on!"

"Wait!"

He stopped with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"What about the Phantom? Won't she come after me or something?"

"I wouldn't worry about her. She doesn't matter to me anymore. Not like you do." He reached down to take off the small ring I had given him a few years prior and tossed it against a statue. The very statue, in fact, that I was hiding behind.

She went up to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "That's more like it!"

He took her hand again. "And now we go, yes?"

"Oui! But not before I do something I've wanted to do for a long time…"

I turned away as they swept each other into a long kiss. Sliding down the statue to the ground, I blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. How could I have not seen this coming? How could he do this to me?

It all came back to me then. During the production in which I played as Cadence playing as Christine, he would often talk of Trixie. I never paid him any mind, however. I always ignored him, thinking nothing of it. But it all made sense now. The entire time when I thought I was slowly gaining his affection…

…He was really falling for Trixie Adams.

I heard the door shut and looked out, seeing that I was alone. I went to pick up the dented and tarnished silver ring and held it close to my heart. A choked sob escaped my lips. "_I gave you my music. Made your song take wing. And now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me…_"

Collapsing to my knees, my woe came in greater waves. "_She was bound to love you, when she heard you sing…_" I drew in shuddering breath. "Oh Christopher…"

I remembered what he had said about me. I "don't matter". I don't matter to him anymore, he claimed. My hand clenched around the ring. I DON'T MATTER. I, the Phantom, his teacher, DON'T MATTER.

He'd regret the day he did this to me. I'd make him pay. They'd all pay for this. It was time for me to really act like the Phantom I was. I pocketed the trinket and stood up, running to another statue. This one was of a Pegasus, and I easily climbed onto its back and stood, tears still streaming down my face and sobs racking my body.

"_YOU WILL CURSE THE DAY YOU DID NOT DO ALL THAT THE PHANTOM ASKED OF YOU!_"

If it's a Phantom they want, it's a Phantom they'll get. I'm done holding back. With a dramatic swoosh of my cape, I jumped from the statue and stormed down to my lair. There was work to be done.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUN DUUUN! And here come all the exciting parts up next! Marian's going to let her true Phantom-side start to shine... Mwhehe...**

**Review please~!**

**-LoRF**


	8. Vandalism

**So, as I have finally come to the end of a very stressful week, I'm going to celebrate with a new chapter! The last half of this is mostly Marian's rant... Please excuse it. Also, the song she sings is basically to the tune of "Wandering Child", except that I used my own wording.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Wood and metal splintered beneath the force of my swing. I took a deep breath before heaving the sledgehammer over my shoulder once more just to take another swing. My shoulders and back strained from the force I had to exert into this. Of course, I was becoming increasingly sore and tired as the hours wore on.

I decorated my wonderful stage with broken boards and various dents from my hammer. I had to be careful where I stepped now, but that didn't stop me from prancing around in sadistic joy. For the past few hours–since midnight, at least–I had been destroying the theatre. Cables and ropes were cut; stage pounded to oblivion; my initials O.G. slashed into the red curtains. I casually tossed the hammer down into the orchestra pit.

The only thing left to do was paint.

Picking up a can of spray paint I found in the supply closets, I shook it violently and went on another rampage. Red splattered all over the sets and backdrops. A laughed bubbled up to my throat and echoed throughout the empty hall. To say that I was having fun was a drastic understatement.

"_Ignorant manager, so foolish and defiant, try to escape this disaster! Run it or sell it, do something with your theatre. Fear me, your Phantom, what would you do without me? I manage more than my student; I manage you!_" I clenched my teeth as my song ended on an angry-sounding note.

I shook the can again and went for another side of the stage. "_Too long you've shunned me, trying to avoid me. I thrash out against you, showing you my rage! You brought this upon yourself. Do not blame me._"

The can was nearing empty. I threw it to the ground and whipped out my rapier, spearing it. "Blame Trixie!"

I jumped back as paint sprayed up at me. My foot caught in one of the holes I made and I crashed back, landing hard. Was karma finally coming into play? If it was, then it's going to have to do more than trip me to get back for all the horrible things I had done…

Standing up, I brushed myself off and decided that I would be finished. I looked around, feeling quite pleased with my work. If anything, the curtains would have to be replaced entirely and sets would be costly… Not to mention, of course, the disaster area that was the stage. My lips curled upward in a crooked smirk, touching the edges of my mask.

After I placed a note in the centre of the stage, I decided to take the long route down to my lair. Whistling to myself, I half-walked, half-danced through the halls. _Keep up the act, Marian, just keep it up…_ As long as I acted happy, I wouldn't have to deal with the crushing feelings of despair brought on by Chris's rejection.

Moonlight shone through windows, tinged with the pale lights of dawn. How funny; I had been up all night just to sabotage my home. Irony, irony…

For some inexplicable reason, I was beginning to feel rather…giddy. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the constant lying to myself as of late, but whatever the cause, I relished it and continued my mindless parade through the building. The Palais Garnier seemed to be all my own when no one was around. I wouldn't often venture far from my lair; usually it was merely to the theatre or a dressing room, or when Sophie managed to drag me somewhere in the world outside. But tonight, I felt free and this was my time.

The polished floors held my prancing reflection. I looked down at it with interest, seeing how I appeared. Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly artistic, I would examine myself or an object thoroughly and draw a picture of it. I hadn't done that in quite some time, however, so this was quite entertaining.

I blinked a few times before moving on. My domain seemed to lacking something, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Music, of course, was an obvious answer. I wasn't searching for music, though. It was something…different. Something new.

Restlessness had fully settled over me by the time I finally made it down to my lair. My fingers trailed over the keys of my organ lovingly. Yet I still held that strange sensation. Shaking myself and walking toward my chambers, I resolved never to stay up this late at night again. Midnight seemed to do bizarre things to my mind.

Once I had changed, I eased between the blood-red sheets and curled into a ball. My eyes were closed, yes, but sleep was far away. I heard a slow drip of water from somewhere either in my part of the caverns or else somewhere remotely nearby. The patter of tiny feet set my hair on end. _Rats…_

I hated vermin with a passion. Almost as much as I hated Trixie…

Trixie.

My heart skipped a beat.

Chris.

Chris and Trixie.

Chris and Trixie, _together_.

A tear slid down my face. The anger and utter rejection I felt yesterday had been vented by my rage in the theatre. How could I have forgotten step two in the process of when you find out that the man you dedicated your life to loves another woman? It was coming, I knew. My lip was already quivering. Something inside me said, "Marian, you're far too old for this; be brave and just terrorize the opera more like you're supposed to!"

As the inevitable sobbing started, I was fighting against it with all my strength. My father would have punjabbed me if he saw me right now… He always discouraged this sort of show of emotion, though thankfully somewhat lenient since I was a bit prone to be a bit…over-sensitive sometimes. Staying true to his words of strict discipline, I didn't shed a tear when he died.

I'm quite confident that it was all coming out now. I shrugged off my father's old rule and cried my heart out. I deserved it, after all; I was tired and sore, not to mention heartbroken from this whole catastrophe. Was it honestly too much to ask that the one person I had devoted my life to love me back?

For a Phantom, that was essentially asking for the equivalent of ownership of the Eiffel Tower.

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**RANT RANT RANT RANT! She does that a lot.**

**Review!**

**-LoRF**


	9. The Place My Parents Met

**So, after sleeping for the past two days, I decided to get up and give you all another chapter! The last half of this chapter is supposed to be in her dad's POV, so that's why it's all in italics. Ah, gotta love it! Nothing like painting and violining in the park... You'll see what I mean. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**By the way, there's a mention of a punishment her dad used on her when she was little... I, by no means, intend to imply that he abused her; I'm just saying that he, erm, well... You'll read it anyway. Just that he's not a bad father!**

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"So, did you hear about the stage?"

"I did indeed. How extraordinary."

"Extraordinary?"

"Oui. As in, extraordinary that _anyone_ would want to do that."

"How'd you know that I was going to ask you that?"

I looked at her over my sunglasses, taking a long sip of tea. "Sophie, what makes you think I did any of that?"

"You were complaining about how your back hurts today. Only something heavy could possibly have done all that damage, and I know that even you aren't strong enough to withstand it completely. So, what were the tools of destruction?"

"Sledgehammer, my rapier, and a few cans of spray paint." I smirked at her expression. "The hammer is what really got me."

"Cadence!"

I leaned back in my chair. Sophie had dragged me out into the city for a few hours, and at the moment we were taking a quick break at a small café before going back to the opera house. I shrugged my shoulders, tracing the lip of my glass with my forefinger. "Oui?"

"I can't believe that you would do something like this! I hope you realize that Philippe is spending _your_ salary paying for repairs! He wasn't pleased with that note you left, either. I thought he was going to have a heart attack!"

"Ach, I could only be so lucky!"

She gasped and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Cadence, you are walking a fine line…"

"And what are you going to do? Tell my mother?" I leaned forward with a self-satisfied smirk.

Sophie averted her gaze from me. I found this a bit odd, since she almost never backed away from me and never failed to speak her mind, giving me an opinion on my behavior whether I liked it or not. In truth, most times she was more like a mother to me than a sister or best friend. I cleared my throat and sat up straight.

She finally whispered, "I can't let you do this, Cadence."

"Do what?"

"I can't let you get revenge on the opera house for something one person did."

"He rejected me, Sophia; do you know what that feels like?"

"Yes!" She glared at me, her eyes wild with anger.

My eyes widened in surprise. She hardly ever got angry with me, and when she did, it was never like this or ever very long. I drummed my fingers on the table, biting my lip. "Oh… I'm sorry… I, ah…"

"Go."

"Pardon?"

"Go, Cadence. Go back to the opera house. I'll meet you there later."

"But–"

The sharp look she gave me spoke volumes. I nodded and stood up, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "Thank you." My voice was weak and strained. I sent her one last glance before disappearing into the Parisian crowd.

For a moment I felt as if Father had reprimanded me again. His punishments were harsh. I shuddered to remember the cutting edge of his belt that served as consequence for the day I snuck out to the city. The long scar on my back was ever-fading, to make a long story short. It was the first and last time he ever physically hurt me; and even then he, himself, cried harder than I did from realization of his actions. Also the first and last time I saw him lose his chilling demeanor.

But that look she gave me… Sophie was insanely upset with me, I knew. I decided to take a different route from the Opera House. I had no wish to go home. Instead, I headed in the direction of Le Bois, where my parents had met. Little to Sophie or anyone else's knowledge, I would sometimes go there myself for inspiration of any sort. It was a good place for that. And, thankfully, a good place to think.

_

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_

I looked over to my left, feeling as though someone was there, staring at me. My first impulse was to tell the young woman off; at a second glance, however, I couldn't find it in my heart to do so. She was very intent on her painting. A smudge of brown adorned her pale cheek, not that she took notice. I looked around to see that we were alone before setting my violin in the grass.

_Sitting down on the bench next to her, I cleared my throat. "Pardon me…"_

_She jumped and nearly dropped her brush. "Huh? Oh!" Her face turned bright red and she glanced rapidly from me to her canvas. "I'm so sorry!"_

_"About what, pray? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."_

_"I was painting your picture… I should've asked first… I'm sorry. I'll, um, I'll stop if you want me to."_

_This surprised me. "No, not at all! You may do whatever you wish. I merely wished to ask you the time." I craned my neck to get a look at the portrait, but she expertly turned it just so that I could see nothing._

_"It's nearly two in the afternoon." She tapped her watch. "Wait, that can't be right… It was nearly two an hour or so ago!" A long sigh escaped her mouth. "I don't know what time it is. My watch doesn't want to work right now, apparently."_

_I smiled slightly. "Quite all right. It doesn't matter much anyway. May I see your painting, in the least?"_

_"Not until it's finished." A sly smile crept onto her face. "Go back to playing your violin and I'll tell you when I'm done."_

_With a chuckle I stood up and went back to my instrument. "My name is François, by the way, Madame."_

_"I'm Marissé. Nice to meet you. Now hold still! Well, as still as you can while playing that thing."_

_I began playing softly, letting the notes drift over our small secluded area. Very faintly I could hear the strokes of her brush. Every so often I would glance over at her. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, with long blonde hair and melted gray eyes. Felix Giry may have his beloved Eva, but I would have this one. _

___The Phantom of the Opera always got what he wanted, after all. And Marissé was next on my list._

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So, there you have it! The next chapter will be longer, I promise.

**Review please!**

**-LoRF**


	10. Memories In My Journals

**Just a warning: this chapter is nearly pointless. I mean it. It's just for character development and to delve a bit deeper into her parent's story and her past. But hey, I enjoyed writing it and if you like little things that make you smile, read on!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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The tones of my organ bounced off the walls around me. I slammed my hands on the keys, feeling one of my nails chip and break. It was a small price to pay for having my anger vented. I did NOT enjoy walking into _my_ theatre just to see Chris and Trixie sharing a stolen kiss in MY BOX!

I stood up, knocking the bench to the floor. An intelligible shout issued forth from my lips, echoing down the flooded halls and corridors. The past weeks had not been going well for me at all. Trixie and Chris were still an item, the theatre was going on without me, Sophie had been avoiding me, and furthermore Philippe Strauss never did pay me! Fortunately, my box had been left open…most of the time. What, pray, do I have to do to get some obedience! I kicked at a standing candelabrum, missing the slender stem and instead coming into contact with the rather sturdy rock behind it.

My second yell reverberated around me. I blinked away the tears and growled deep in my throat. "That is IT!" I grabbed my mask from my desk and went up to the surface. I needed to vent my anger on someone, and the whole of the theatre would do just fine.

I started down the hallway when I stopped suddenly. What was I doing? Yes, I was angry; yes, I was lonely; yes, I wanted, above all things, to just do away with some people and forget about it. But that's not what I was here for. I was here to keep the theatre in check.

Sighing heavily, I limped back to my main cave and went into my small library, if it could be called so. Mostly it was an archive of all the journals and information we Phantoms had kept throughout the years. On my shelf were three journals: Years 10-13, Years 13-16, and Years 16-19. The one I was using now was tucked under my pillow in my bed. I decided to pull the middle one and flip to a random page. I chuckled a little at my scrawled and spiky handwriting, but I had obviously been excited when I wrote the entry.

_May 3__rd_

_A new actor arrived today! I happened to be in the corridor leading to his dressing room when he came. Well, he's not an actor yet, but his Papa said that he would be eventually. His name is Christopher something-or-other. And, he's quite "cute", as Sophie would put it._

_He's got longish brown hair and these great big blue eyes that I feel like I could stare into forever! After his Papa left I welcomed him to my opera house. He jumped and started shouting something about a ghost. _

_"I am a ghost," I had told him._

_"Ghosts aren't real!"_

_"But, I'm the OPERA Ghost."_

_He kept looking around for me, but he never guessed looking toward the mirror! So finally I told him to come closer to me until I could get a good look at him. He still didn't know exactly where I was. I asked him what he wanted to do in the theatre, and he said he wanted to become a good actor. _

_I told him that I could help him become great. He wanted to know how, so I told him that, since I was the Phantom, I could help train his singing and whatnot. He fortunately believed me! _

_Father would be proud. I've taken on a little actor-in-training like Erik. Things are going to get very interesting! Maybe someday I'll show Chris what I really look like, and I won't have to wear the mask all that time…_

I snapped the book closed. I had been fifteen at the time, in the middle of my fantasized, dramatized, adolescent years. Saying that, I had only been twenty for around half a year. I placed the journal back on the shelf and took out the most recent one. I flipped to the back. A small photograph fell out, and I gazed at it lovingly, almost. It was the usual traditional picture of Sophie and me the day before my birthday so that I could put it in these and look back on how much I had changed.

"Hm. My hair was much shorter then… Ah yes, I remember why…" A week or so before the picture had been taken I had attempted to cut my own hair with my rapier… It didn't work, to be honest.

_October 24__th_

_This is it; the day before I turn twenty. It feels a bit odd, leaving my technical "teenage years" behind me once and for all. But, at the same time, I'm so glad of it. I feel as if I can finally become the Phantom I was meant to be and not worry about whether or not I'm doing it correctly._

_Sophie and her parents–_

I stopped reading. Shutting the leather-bound journal, I put it back on the shelf. Sophie was a heavy weight on my heart at the moment. Surely, if I was to while away my anger through reading, it couldn't be my own words. I selected another journal, this one of my father's. I leafed through the pages before coming to a favorite part of mine.

When he had been courting my mother, his entries became more interesting. I had read the story over and over, a million times if not more, but I never tired of it. It was like the fairy tales I had never read.

_June 13__th_

_I met a young woman in Le Bois today. She was painting my portrait, she said, whilst I stood by a tree and played my violin for myself and anyone who would listen. I decided to meet her by asking her the time, for I had forgotten my watch here in my lair. She grew quite flustered and then finished our conversation by saying that she would allow me to gaze at her picture if I would continue playing my violin!_

_I did so, and gladly. I would glance over at her from time to time. Oh, she was beautiful. Marissé, as I learned her name later, was one of the most gorgeous women I had ever seen! She has wonderful, wonderful blonde hair that simply begs for me to stroke it. Her eyes are of a warm gray. Pale skin doubled with features mentioned earlier, and she tops Eva Gamballie easily!_

_When she finally did finish her work, I was able to see that it was a very life-like portrait of me. She was as wonderful an artist as she was beautiful. I told her so, causing her to blush furiously. I apologized immediately; she said that she didn't mind, and that she often didn't receive compliments on her work. _

_We agreed to meet each other in the same place tomorrow. I feel myself yearning to know her better. As a Phantom, my only companion is myself and Felix Giry. I only hope that Marissé will still have me when I tell her my true identity. I believe I have indeed become quite engrossed with this young woman, and I will do whatever it takes to make her mine._

Placing the journal against my heart, I sighed and closed my eyes. Father always said that I was nearly the exact image of my mother. If only I could possibly show Chris that… Maybe then I would have a chance with him. Then I wouldn't need the mask, or the music. I would only need him. That's all I've ever needed.

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**I should have the next chapter up soon. It'll be more action-y and Phantom-y, I promise. Hehehe... Believe me, it'll be more Phantom-y for sure...**

**Leave a review, please!**

**-LoRF**


	11. A Not So Innocent Killing

**Sorry it's been a while. I got busy and lazy... So anyway, I'd just like to point out that I finally realized that Raoul's brother's name is Phillippe... I didn't mean to steal Philippe Strauss's name from that, actually. That was pure conincidence. Same with how apparently Marian is the name of a character in a video game I own... Gees, I guess I just can't come up with my own names, eh? Anyway, here's chapter 11! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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A week or so later (I didn't pay much attention to time) my theatre put on a production of _Chicago_. Trixie had told Philippe about it, and he wanted to see what kind of feedback it would get here. I didn't have very high hopes, to be blunt.

I sat in my usual place in Box 5, glaring at everything and everyone. Not far into the production I became enraged. Philippe Strauss, you _do _have a death wish! I had sent him a number of notes and threats to give Chris the main male role of Billy Flynn. But no; instead, my student is given the role of…a prison guard? What is it with these people and giving him the role of a guard? First _Wicked_ and now THIS!

Standing up, I hurried from the box into the small hallway, through a hidden door and up to the highest balcony nearest the ceiling. I could see everything from where I stood, including the perfectly murderous drop into the audience. I took a deep breath before projecting my voice throughout the hall, "I believe I demanded that Monsieur Nighting be given the lead!"

The actors on stage stopped what they were doing to gasp and look around. Fools… I'm above you, hah! I heard Chris whisper, "It's the Opera Ghost. She's here!"

Now, I would like to make at least one fact perfectly clear: I have nothing against Michael. He's a good actor, a decent singer, and unlike most people, he doesn't grate upon my nerves. But he pushed the limit when he hissed, just loud enough for me to hear, "Hey! You're not supposed to talk, kid!"

"Oh really? Hmm…" I snuck back down and around to backstage. Fortunately, no one saw me…or so I thought.

I heard a poorly stifled sneeze that froze me on the spot. Turning slightly, I saw that it was the very same stagehand I had threatened months before. "Devon, wasn't it?" I growled.

He nodded and his face turned humorously ashen. I chuckled to myself and turned completely around to face him. "Have you been…following me?"

All I received was another nod.

"You decided to follow the Opera Ghost, did you? How…quaint." I grinned maliciously and took a few steps toward him. He scurried backward. "You do realize that this means I have to kill you now, correct?"

Devon's eyes widened and he turned to run. I grabbed the back of his shirt and held my rapier against his throat. "You and I are above the stage, are we not? And in the middle of the production," I whispered in his ear. "I'm going to let you go. Let's see how long you can keep me entertained, you little stage monkey." My grip slackened. "Ready? Set…" I released him. "Go."

He ran from me like a scared mouse. I narrowed my eyes and walked calmly in the other direction, heading toward the catwalk. I knew that that was the first place he'd go, since I wouldn't be able to ambush him from above and he could see left and right. Devon may be foolish, but he wasn't stupid.

Sure enough, he nearly screamed when I showed up there. I shrugged my shoulders in an exaggerated fashion and yawned. "Surely you can do better than _that_…"

He suddenly grabbed a cable and began to climb to go onto a different catwalk. My uncovered eyebrow rose slowly. "Hm. Didn't expect that one, actually."

I followed his example and hoisted myself onto the higher level. But, he had already gone down below me once more. I smirked. This was one game I was enjoying. It was almost a shame that I would end up winning and he would have to die. Small price to pay, I suppose.

He ran under me before I jumped to land with a hollow thump on the walk. He lost his balance and fell on the metal, looking down at the actors on stage. I roughly grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his feet. "Have you seen what you came for?"

Devon took a deep breath and turned completely white. For a moment I was afraid he was going to swoon. I pressed him against the railing. "Did you want to see the Opera Ghost?"

"Yeah…" He squeaked.

I tilted my head to one side. "You…did?"

He nodded furiously.

"Of course… You wanted to know what the Phantom looks like, didn't you? Answer me!" I gritted my teeth.

"Yes!"

"Then see what you came for!" I tore off my mask angrily and held it in my hand. "Look at me and see what you wanted to see! I'm not so frightening, am I? Not so intimidating, am I?"

His eyes widened and he gasped. "Phantom, you're…"

"I'm what?"

"You're–"

I didn't give him a chance to finish. I had tossed my mask to the side and whipped out my rapier, plunging it through his chest up to the hilt. Blood oozed from the wound, staining my gloves. "Now you'll serve as an example never to fool with the Phantom!" I hissed, twisting the weapon around.

His breath hitched as blood dribbled from the corner of his lips. I ripped my sword from him and watched him collapse at my feet. "Any final words, Devon?"

"Phantom, you're…"

"Speak up." I knelt next to him, preparing to shove him off the edge.

"You're… Tu es belle…"

I stiffened for only a moment before shaking myself and shoving him off the edge. He fell with a sickening thud, nearly on top of Michael. I stood up and replaced my mask, wiping my sword on the carpeted catwalk and sheathing it. The audience screamed, along with many chorus girls, and all knowing eyes turned toward me.

My thoughts were far from the current event, however. Devon's last words were "You're beautiful". No one, excepting my father, had ever told me that. Sophie had told me before that I was pretty and good-looking, but beautiful…? And I killed him.

I killed him.

I growled in frustration and turned to go back to my lair. I told myself that I would never do that again. But, yet again, my anger got the best of me. This was the second time I had killed. Why? Why was I cursed to kill and terrorize? To add a bit of salt to my wounded emotional state, I killed the only man to call me beautiful. Lovely.

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**Well then, looks like Marian's got a bit of a past on her as well! We've gone through about half the story by this point, and this are going to start picking up...or at least, they should. **

**By the way, I'd like to thank everyone who reads this. I can't really say thanks to those that review, since NO ONE reviews except for two or three people. Thank you tufted titmouse, katszoa, and Maxniss Everide! So, anyway, THE REST OF YOU should start reviewing or something... Seriously. I makes me a bit depressed, actually.**

**-LoRF**


	12. I Am A Monster

**I'd just like to thank those that reviewed the last chapter. As for this one, it was hard for me to write... The sad part is that it's only 928 words long... But it's a good 928 words! Hope you enjoy. The next chapter will be longer and less heavy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Sophie's shout, no, SCREAM of indignation and absolute rage echoed through the caves. I jumped and nearly dropped my father's prized Stradivarius. Fumbling with it, I eventually managed to keep it from shattering to the ground and fit it back into its case. She was coming. I knew she was coming. And I knew exactly what she wanted.

Sure enough, she stormed into my home and went right up to me, jabbing me in the chest with her sharp nail. "Marian Erikson!"

"Sophia Giry." My sly smile enraged her even more.

"I can't believe that you would stoop so low as to murder a stagehand!"

I shrugged and began to walk away from her. She grabbed my wrist tightly and spun me around. We were about the same height, she being only slighter taller than myself, but at that moment I felt much shorter. "You _killed_ Devon! Do you understand me? You KILLED HIM!"

"I know I killed him! Have you any idea how hard it was cleaning his blood from my rapier?"

A muscle near her eye twitched and she gritted her teeth. "I thought we agreed that this would never happen again! Don't you remember Alex–"

"We are never to speak of that."

"Oh, but we're speaking of it now! Listen to me Marian; I've been watching you go slowly insane! This has got to stop!"

I wrenched myself free and stood away from her. "I'm fine. Leave me be."

"I'm not leaving until you've realized what you've truly done. Your job isn't to kill off the theatre; it's to protect it!"

"I'm doing my job and I don't need some ballet rat to tell me what to do!" I spun around to glare at her.

She winced at my comment. I was too angry to care. She shook her head. "What would your dad think?"

"Don't you dare drag my father into this!"

"He'd be ashamed of you, Marian! You know that just as well as I do!"

In one swift motion, I had her on the ground with my hands around her neck. "My father is dead, and I don't need you nor anyone else telling me what to do! Have I made myself clear, chorus girl?"

She continued to glare at me, understanding how close she was to losing her life. "Go ahead. Kill me."

I tightened my grip considerably. "Don't push it."

"Kill me! Do it, Marian!"

As I took a deep breath to prepare myself to end her life, I happened to look into her face one last time. My eyes widened. What was I doing? What was I doing here, my hands at my best friend's neck?

She was glaring at me with conviction and confidence in her eyes. She knew I couldn't do it. Well, I'd show her…! I narrowed my eyes and went for her throat again. She began to gasp as her air intake became thinner and thinner. "Believe me now?"

"M-Mar! Stop!"

Her hands clawed weakly at mine. I chuckled darkly and stood to pull her to her feet, dragging her to the lake. "You won't soon be bothering me again, ballet rat!"

"Marian!" She shrieked as I prepared to shove her in the frigid waters, my hands once again at her throat.

"Any last words, brat?" I hissed, completely blind to what I was really doing.

A single tear squeezed from her tightly closed eyes and she drew in a shuddering gasp. "Marian, please… Don't do this…"

"You've doubted me for the last time. Prepare to die."

She gave me one last look. "Tell my parents…that I love them…"

Something inside me snapped. I relaxed my hold on her and backed away as she collapsed, coughing and rubbing her neck. "Mon dieu… No…"

"Marian, good Lord, I didn't think you would actually try to kill me!" She struggled to her feet and stared at me.

"No, I didn't… I didn't mean to… I just… I don't know what came over me… Please, you have to believe me!" I took a step toward her.

She held out her hand. "Whoa! Stay away from me until I know you won't make another attempt on my life!"

"Sophie, please…" Tears fogged up my vision and my lip began quivering. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, I'll be fine."

I honestly couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. I turned away from her as a choked sob escaped my lips. She laid her hand on my shoulder. "Marian, I'm ok, really."

"No, you don't understand! I could've killed you and you're just going to shrug it off like it's nothing? That's not right! What's happened to me, Sophie? I'm…" I ripped off my mask and threw it to the ground. "…I'm a monster…"

She gasped slightly. "You're not a monster."

"Leave me alone."

"I'm not leaving."

"I said, leave me alone!" I ran from her then, much the same way that I ran from my father years ago when he had cut me with his belt. I knew the corridors by heart, but even I was lost as I ran blindly. Suddenly my foot caught on a stone and I went crashing to the ground. Getting up to my knees, I saw that it was near the same place I had before.

I crawled over to a rock and leaned against it, pulling my knees to my chest and burying my head in my arms. My body shook with the sobs that reverberated back to me. "Oh Papa…" I whimpered, "I wish you were here…"

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**Aww... Even Marian has a break-down every once in a while... Anyway, hope you enjoyed!**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**-LoRF**


	13. Erik the Opera Cat

**Sorry it took me a bit longer than usual. I've been preparing for my trip to *get ready for it* PARIS! Yes, I'm going to the very city where this story takes place! But because of that, I'll be gone for a week very soon. This may be the last chapter for a while, but if I get another on up before then, so be it. Enjoy! (OMG, PARIS!)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Sophie found me a few hours later, by the time I had dozed off into a restless nap. She said nothing as we went back to my lair, but I could tell that all was forgiven. I sat on my organ bench as she took up my desk chair. "Marian."

Her voice was soft and careful. I turned my head toward her slowly. "…Oui?"

"You need a cat."

The statement confused me mightily. I looked at her in shock. "What?"

"I think you need a cat. Or a pet of some sort in the very least. It'd help you. You know they say that a pet lengthens a person's life by quite a bit."

"I don't think having a cat would be a good idea. I live on a lake; cats hate water."

She smiled slightly and nodded. "True… But I don't think it would matter. Come on, go get changed and let's get you a kitten."

"I just said that I don't want a cat."

"YOU'RE GETTING A CAT!"

The command was sudden and very loud. I jumped and ran into my bedroom to change. "Two minutes!" It was certainly hard to argue with Sophie when she yelled at me like that. I knew she wasn't angry, just…forceful.

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We had been searching through all the pet stores in Paris for the perfect pet for me. I kept telling Sophie that I didn't want a cat, and that it was all a huge mistake, but she didn't listen. Instead she picked up yet another kitten and rubbed her nose against its head. "It's this one adorable?"

"Oui, très mignon," I answered off-handedly. I was tired of looking at kittens and other animals all day. I had more pressing matter to get back to, such as how to continue my theatre.

To give myself a bit of relief from her persistent pet expedition, I looked out the front window to watch cars and people go by. A small black shape caught my eye, however. I squinted so that I may see it better. "Oh my…"

I rubbed my eyes and blinked rapidly. Surely what I had just seen wasn't a cat in the middle of the street. That was positively–

"My God, there's a cat in the road!" I whispered hoarsely to myself. Something inside me urged to go and rescue the small black animal, but the other side of me said that it would be foolish to go running in front of the blasted automobiles.

The kitten was nearly run over and I squeaked in spite of myself. That made up my mind. I yanked my sunglasses down over my eyes and tightened my ponytail as I ran out the shop door. Sophie called my name, my fake name anyway, but I didn't turn around. Instead, I stood on the sidewalk and waited for a space between cars.

Once it was open, I took a deep breath and dashed straight into the middle of traffic. A car honked at me and I jumped at least a foot in the air. My ears were ringing from the loud noise. "Sortez de la route maudite!" The driver yelled.

I can't get off the road right now, sorry! I found the kitten just as it narrowly escaped certain death once more. Grabbing it by the scruff of its dirty neck, I scooped it up into my arms and hurried to the other side of the street. Somewhere in my run my sunglasses had fallen off and been most likely crushed by a rolling tire.

When we were safe, I looked down at the pitiful creature in my arms. It was huddled against my chest, mewing loudly. I wiggled my finger in its face until it grabbed it and nibbled softly. "Heh, reckless little fellow, aren't you…"

I quickly surmised that this was a he and not an it, which also gave me a wonderful idea for his name. He had white fur on his face, giving him the appearance of a mask. The rest of him was a shade of black, very much like my cape. He looked up at me with gorgeous yellow eyes that seemed to bore into my soul.

"Erik." I took my scratched finger away to give him my pinky. He eagerly began biting it again. "That's right; eat the finger I _don't_ need."

I heard Sophie's heavy breathing behind me, so I turned around with a smile. "Bonjour, mon amie."

She was doubled over and leaning on her knees as she regained her breath. "What do you think you were doing? You could've gotten yourself killed!" She looked up to see Erik. "And what is _that_?"

"This is Erik, my new cat. He shall be Erik, the Phantom-Cat of the Opera. The Opera Cat." I giggled. "I think it's amusing."

"Punny…" She straightened and leaned in to stroke his head. "Well, he is cute. And he's got his own little mask. Fine then. Let's get him back to the opera house so we can get him cleaned up and accustomed to living in a cave."

"A furnished cave, thank you very much!"

"Right, right. A furnished cave. Whatever." She smiled and started walking off.

I looked once more down at the now purring ball of fur in my arms. "Erik…the Opera Cat. You'll make a good cat. I can tell."

He merely bit down on my pinky with his back teeth and forced a wince out of me.

* * *

Plenty of yowls, scratches, shrieks, changes of clothes, and bandages later, Sophie and I had Erik bathed and situated. At the moment, he was situated in a towel in my arms as she attached yet another of her sticky little bandages over my hand. "Gees, he just really hates water!"

"He's a CAT, Sophie!" I sighed irritably. Erik had decided that I would be his scratching post during his bath as I was holding him while Sophie scrubbed him down. "Either way, it's over now, and he'll just have to adjust to living on a lake." I looked down at him and smiled to see him shivering against me. It was cute and heartrending at the same time.

She nodded and came over to us, stroking his head gently. "He's so cute… I'm jealous, honestly. Mom never let me have a pet."

"I thought you weren't allowed pets in an apartment…?"

"You're not. But I could've gotten a goldfish or something but she wouldn't even let me have that!"

"I have plenty of fish." I gestured to my lake. "But I don't think any of them are fit for eating or are pet material. In fact, I think hardly any of them even have eyes…"

She waved her hand as if to swipe away the subject. "_Anyway_, I'll go back to the pet store and get supplies for your new family member. Keep him warm and happy until I get back."

I watched her leave and went to sit down in the plush throne-like chair I kept. Erik mewed pitifully and looked up at me. "Well, that's what you get for scratching me so much!"

He meowed again.

"I don't care if you're cold. You sort of deserved it."

"Meow…"

"Yes, yes, I know, you don't like water. But you're clean."

"Mew."

"I will not tolerate that kind of language, Erik!"

He nuzzled his nose into the towel.

I giggled in spite of myself. "Perhaps I truly am going insane, petit chat. I'm talking to an animal, after all. But somehow I think you can understand me, if only a little. I– Oh, you're asleep. I'm sorry; I'll stop talking."

His head rested on the spot where my heart laid beating in my breast. In that moment I knew that this life, this living, breathing creature, depended upon me and me alone to make sure that he was happy for the rest of his life. He was my responsibility. Sort of like my own child.

I made a silent vow to be the best friend this kitten would ever know. Together we would live in the opera house, the Phantom and the Opera Cat.

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**This chapter marks a little more than halfway finished with the story. Drama and action comes next! Hahahaha... It's all going to be surprising, revealing, SHOCKING! And it won't sound like a bad advertisement like that just did!**

**Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are appreciated!**

**-LoRF**

***Note: If you have seen a fic by Maxniss Everide about Erik getting turned into a cat, this chapter was NOT based on, inspired by, etc. that. I have already taken it up with her and we both agreed that we would continue on with our respective fics despite that we have this single similarity. DO NOT ACCUSE EITHER OF US OF STEALING IDEAS.**


	14. Bal Masque

**I'm back! And quite miffed. After touring the actual Paris opera house I found so many things wrong with this... But since this is based off the movie version, I'll just have to keep it. Anyway, hope you enjoy chapter 14!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Clever Sophie had fooled me yet again. She was smarter than what I gave her credit for. Not only did she force me to get a pet for my own good and as a bane for loneliness, but it also kept me busy and away from the upper world of the theatre. For weeks Erik had my undivided attention as I tried to keep him out of trouble.

He was a curious little devil, always getting into things he shouldn't have and trying to fish in the lake (with very wet results). But, I enjoyed his little antics, and playing with him gave me a feeling within my soul that I had never experienced before.

It was on a rare afternoon that Erik was calmly playing with an empty spool of thread and I had the chance to mend some of my clothes. I was currently sewing up a torn seam on one of my vests when a piece of paper was shoved in my face. "Read this!"

"Thank you for dropping by, Sophie. Oh yes, I'm fine. So glad you asked. I presume you are also well?" I took the paper and glanced over it. "I'm not going."

"But you have to go!" She sat on the edge of my desk.

I tied a small knot with the needle and took it out, slipping on the vest and feeling it over. "Even if I wanted to go to the Bal Masqué, I wouldn't have anything to go as. Why is Philippe even throwing this anyway?"

"How should I know? But you could go as the Red Death. I know you have that costume lying around somewhere."

"It's far too masculine." I picked up my things and went to go put them away.

Sophie scoffed at my back. "No offense, Mar, but that never stopped you before."

I slammed the drawer shut. "Thank you so much for boosting my self-esteem."

She frowned and reached down to pick up Erik. "You know what I meant." She rubbed her nose against his and meowed. "I think you should go. You haven't left this place in weeks. Get out and do something!"

"Erik needs me." I crossed my arms. "Besides, how would they react to seeing the Phantom walk in on their party? It wouldn't go over well, I should think."

"Don't think; go."

"I'm not going."

"Come on…"

I sighed and flipped a bit of hair from my face. "Even if I went, I would have nothing to go as."

"Go as the Red Death."

"Too masculine. I suppose that means I can't go."

"YOU'RE GOING TO THE MASQUERADE!"

She yelled this so loudly that Erik was frightened and ran to go hide in the kitchen. I stared at Sophie for a few moments before giving in. "…Fine. I'll go."

"Yes!" She grabbed my arm. "Now, let's go shopping! You need a costume."

I groaned in anticipation of the classic Parisian shopping experience to come.

* * *

Peeking around the corner, I gasped. There were more people here than I thought. I began feeling a bit shy, not really wanting to ruin everything by making my presence known. I would be hard to miss, and with my mask it would be a more than obvious who I was.

I wanted to turn around and go back down to the safety of my lair when I happened to spot Chris and Trixie. My eyes narrowed. She had come dressed as the black domino and he the white. He looked absolutely handsome in his white suit, and I found myself walking out toward him…

"The Phantom of the Opera!"

All music stopped. I felt the eyes of the people on me as I walked down to stand on the octagonal pattern after the first set of stairs. "Miss me?" I smirked and felt the courage come back to me.

Philippe began to walk toward me, but I turned to glare at him. "I know you did, monsieur."

"What are you doing here, Phantom?"

"I can't enjoy a party in my own home?" I grinned at his miffed expression before twirling my sash-tails around my fingers. "You see, Strauss, nothing goes on in this building without my knowledge. I do whatever I wish, for though you own the Opera…"

I circled him and stopped at his front. "You do not own me."

He glared at me through his narrowed eyes and quickly scrutinized my being, from my black flats to the length of my red dress. "You certainly came dressed to stay."

Chuckling darkly, I took a few steps to the side to place my hand on the marble landing. "Indeed I did. Remember: Ne me touchez pas! Je suis Mort Rouge harcèlement à l'étranger!" I recited back to him the words printed in gold upon the blood-red sash I tied around my waist. "For if you do… Well, let us just leave it at that."

I walked down into the crowd and watched with amusement as they all parted to leave me room. "Come now, this is a party! Make merry and ignore the Phantom!" I turned toward the orchestra. "Do continue. I won't do a thing."

Slowly, slowly, the conductor raised his wand and struck up the band. People began mingling and dancing around me as I walked through. Making my way to Sophie, I leaned against a pillar and cleared my throat. "So, you've got me here. What now?"

"Now you need to dance and have fun."

"Sophia, you obviously didn't plan this very well."

She turned toward me, her angel-dress rustling. "Well… I guess…" She suddenly shoved me into the light. "I guess Chris wants you!"

I stumbled into his arms. He caught me and set me upright, chuckling nervously. "I wanted to get a better look at you, Teacher."

"Do I not strike fear into your soul?" I adjusted the black skull mask and frowned. "Surely, I must not look entirely approachable."

"You don't. But, I'm glad you're here."

"Amuse me."

"I haven't seen you a while. I got worried." He cleared his throat and whispered, "I missed you."

I looked away from him and gazed out over the crowd. "You should go, Monsieur. It will bring no good to see you conversing with one such as me. For, I am the Phantom; you are a budding actor."

"Stranger things have happened."

I fiddled with the strings on my bodice and tightened the sash's knot. "I see."

To my horror, a mild waltz was the next piece for the orchestra. From the corner of my eye I could see Trixie making the motion to come over and fetch her date, though she seemed hesitate since I was here. The next instant I felt Chris take my hand. I whipped my head up to look at him.

"Dance with me, Opera Ghost."

I didn't really have a choice. I nodded numbly and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor. Once again people parted from me and we were left with a large circular area. He placed one of his hands at my waist and the other with my palm. "Ready?"

"Of course."

The dance began as a simple sway, with small movements and an occasionally twirl or two. I soon grew bored and took over. Leading him into an extravagant step, he seemed surprised but went into it whole-heartedly. I gave him a small nod of encouragement.

I was thankful for the area that my frightened subjects had given us. Chris twirled me out at arm's length, my dress flaring out and, in my opinion, accentuating our dance before pulling me back against his chest. I turned myself so that I was facing forward and his arms were around me from behind. Unknown to him, but this was much the same as when he held me during the production of _The Phantom of the Opera_.

He bent his mouth down to my ear and whispered, "Phantom, you dance wonderfully."

"Merci." I sighed and leaned against him. "You, as well."

As the music swelled, so did our dance. He whirled me about and we began again, stronger this time. I knew this song by heart on at least three different instruments; I knew that this powerful moment took place only at the beginning and very end of the piece. True to my memory, it slowed to even out in a ritardando.

We merely swayed in one spot by this time. I reached up for his cheek, tracing the edges of the white mask that only covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose. "Christopher…"

He grabbed my hand, holding it and gazing down at me. "Yes, Phantom?"

Oh, how I had begun to dread the way he called me Phantom! I wanted him to know me for who I really was, what I was really called, and most importantly, what I really looked like. I took a deep breath and let my eyes glaze over his face. "There is something I want you to know. Many things, actually."

"Anything. I'm here to listen."

"Chris, I… I don't really know how to say this, but… I l–"

The song had ended and so did our dance. I learned this by the way that suddenly he was ripped from my arms and actually I was shoved to the ground. I winced and looked up to see Trixie hanging on him, glaring down at me. "That's more than enough!" She fumed.

I jumped up and dusted myself off. "Calm yourself, Beatrice. I was merely conversing with him." Deep down inside I wished that I could take the small dagger I had hidden under my sash and run it through her heart.

"I saw what you were doing, you masked freak!"

Once again all music and laughing came to a halt. Everyone was eager to see what I would do to the insolent girl who dared reprimand me. And they would not be disappointed.

I clenched my hands at my sides. "Do not tempt me. I promised myself that I would be a good Phantom for this night, but that vow can easily be broken."

"Oh, don't tempt _you_? Listen, I know what I'm doing! Stay away from my boyfriend, got it? If you so much as see him again, I WILL call the police on you and have your little cave down there filled in!"

"How frightening." I began to relax as her threats were ridiculous and completely irrational.

"I mean it. Stay away from him. He doesn't need you." She jabbed her finger in my chest, to my surprise. "_No one_ needs you."

She began to walk away then, Chris on her arm. A muscle in my cheek twitched beneath my mask. Trixie may talk all she likes, but I will not tolerate this last act of hers. I reached for the small knife and lunged at her back.

Something collided with me at the last moment and sent me sprawling on the marble floor. The dagger clattered to the ground only a few feet from me. Sophie was getting back to her feet. "Phantom, don't do anything you'll regret!"

I growled deep in my throat and scooped up the weapon again. A woman screamed and many a guest gasped as they realized what was going on. Sophie yelled, "Trixie, duck!" just as the blade left my fingertips.

It flew through the air and just barely missed her head, imbedding in the wall and quivering. She and Chris both looked back at me. I glared at them and grew ever angrier. "You will regret crossing the Phantom! I'll be sure of it!"

Glancing around for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, I grabbed a champagne glass and smashed it in half over a refreshment table. Brandishing the upper half, I shook myself and went for Trixie. It would be a relief to me, having her gone and away. Then she couldn't kill my eardrums and steal my student.

Chris grabbed my arms from behind and held me back. "Phantom!"

I saw Philippe Strauss whip out his cell phone. He could only be calling the police, not that I cared much. "Let go of me!" I seethed, struggling against his grip.

Trixie merely stood and watched with shock. I managed to free myself and started to go for her throat again, but fortunately my common sense decided to kick in. I didn't want another situation like when I nearly killed my best friend. The police were on their way. I had only one option at this point.

I ran for the trapdoor that was the octagonal pattern. "Consider yourself lucky, Adams! Next time I will not let you go so easily!" I slid a small loose tile into the correct position and dropped down into my hall of mirrors.

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**So, anyone get the reference I was trying to make? If you do, I'll...find something interesting and worthwhile...maybe...**

**Either way, leave a review!**

**-LoRF**


	15. Trixie: Who Do You Love?

**Sorry it's been a few days. I got a little busy. Anyway, this chapter is different from all the rest. This chapter is in Trixie's point of view. I orginally was just hoping that I could make this an all-Marian story, but then I realized that if I didn't do this then the other side of the story would never be told. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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I stood in shock at what had just happened. The Phantom nearly killed me! She threw a knife AT MY HEAD! The hole she disappeared down into closed back up and the last we heard of her was a chilling laugh that sent shivers up and down my spine.

Chris turned my head toward him and stared into my wide eyes. "Trix, are you all right?"

"I think so…" I swallowed hard. "I… I don't feel so good… Let's go."

He nodded sadly and took my arm, leading me into the night and into a taxi he hailed. "Back to your apartment or mine?"

"Mine."

He gave the directions to the driver since I couldn't speak French yet and we drove off. I stared out the window at the passing lights and sighed heavily, trying to force the image of the Phantom from my mind.

Ever since I had arrived a few months prior, she had haunted me. At first it wasn't so bad, since she just scared me out of my wits when she laughed or whispered in my ear from far off and I didn't know where she was. It got slightly more annoying when she began vandalizing my costumes and replaced my translated scripts with ones all in French.

Now, however, she had resorted to full-on violence. I knew that she was coming to intimidate me at the party when she came dressed as that creepy Red Death thing. I had seen some of her scary masks, but nothing compared to the one she wore tonight.

I looked over at Chris. What on earth did he see in her? She was a terror! Yet he kept going back to her when he and I were obviously together. I laid my head on his shoulder and glanced up at him. He smiled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. _Phantom, eat your heart out._

It was obvious that she loved him just as much as I did, or perhaps even more. But that was obvious. What wasn't obvious, what the real question was… Who the heck did Chris like back?

I entwined my fingers with his and looked up at him. "You and I are going to have a talk when we get there," I whispered.

"Very well then."

The ride was over relatively soon and I led him up to my apartment. Once the door was closed and locked, I turned toward him, ushering him into the living room and shedding my coat. I placed my hands on my hips as he sat in my easy chair. "Monsieur…"

"Your French accent is getting better!" He smiled goofily in an attempt to lighten my mood.

"Thank you. But anyway, I think it's time we had a little…_chat_ about the Opera Ghost."

"What kind of chat?"

I turned my back to him. "Chris, I need to know: do you love me?"

"Of course I do! How could you think I don't?"

"I don't know, maybe because you constantly ditch me for that blonde freak and you were dancing with her at the Masquerade!" I whirled around angrily.

He sighed heavily. "Trix, you have to understand that she's my voice teacher…"

"I do understand that!" I placed my hand to my head and began pacing the floor. "Chris, what I don't understand is why you keep going back to her. That night you told me that you loved me, you also said that the Phantom meant nothing to you. She did one thing in retaliation and now you're just running back to her! That tells me that you didn't really mean anything you said that night."

"No! I meant every word I said!"

I stopped pacing to lean over him, using the chair arms as a support. "Then do you love the Phantom or do you not?"

After a moment's hesitation, he said quietly, turning his head away from me, "Both of you."

"What? How is that possible?" I straightened from confusion. "What do you see in her?"

"Trixie, I love you because when I'm with you I feel safe. I feel… Well, I feel like nothing could touch us, you know? But when I'm with the Phantom…" He stood up. "She instills in me a passion like I've never known. Her music is enchanting, unlike anything I've ever heard!"

He suddenly grabbed my hands, as if just talking about the Phantom gave him a strange sensation. "Have you ever heard her sing?"

"No, I've only ever heard her talk…and laugh creepily."

"You haven't heard music until you've heard her sing!" He smiled again, lost in his own world. "I love the Phantom because of her mysteriousness and her talents. She is a true angel upon earth."

"If she's an angel, she's an angel that lost her halo and her wings for a good reason!" My voice was even.

He shot me a glare. "You don't know her!"

"Neither do you! Have you ever seen her without her mask? Has she ever sat down with you and just talked about her life? You don't know her any better than anyone else in that opera house!"

"I…" He was growing flustered, I knew. "I know her better than you'll ever hope to!"

"I don't really want to know that crazy woman!"

"She's not crazy, just…misunderstood."

I sighed and shook my head. "Chris, I just want to know who you love. You can only love one person and be with her, unless you're a polygamist, which last time I checked you were not. I want you tell me, once and for all, which one of us you love. Me? Or le Fantôme?"

Now that he was calming down and I had finally approached him with the straight-up question, he seemed at a complete loss for quite some time. He finally mustered up the will to say softly, "Trixie, I told you: I love you both. Isn't that good enough?"

"No, it's not. Listen to me. I want you to go home and think this over. But remember: I love you too. And so does the Phantom. But you can only have one of us. Choose a safe and sane life with me, or one filled with passion. Your choice."

I began ushering him out the door then. He turned back to me before I closed it in his face. "I'm sorry." He planted a quick kiss on my forehead. "I'll have a better answer tomorrow."

"Good night, Christopher." I shut the door and walked back to my living room, plopping down on the couch. What I wouldn't give to throw a knife at _her_ head! She caused way too much trouble for me…

Hopefully tomorrow would finalize everything and she'd leave me alone, because nothing ever happens at the Opera House that she doesn't know.

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**The next chapter will hopefully come soon. This story, according to my computer, is 50 pages long exactly. Whoo! I'm pretty proud of myself for that. **

**To continue, please leave a review!**

**-LoRF**


	16. The Red Headed Tourist

**This is a bit of a filler chapter and my way of explaining what Marian would do on a day that the Opera House is heavy with tourism. So, what better day to choose than the day that I visited? Yep, the girl in here is me (not using my real name, of course) so feel free to either facepalm at the fact that I cameoed in my own story or laugh at how immature I acted in there. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...excepting me.**

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I stole the newspaper from Philippe's desk the next morning, just to toss it away in disgust. As usual, the media made me look like an absolute monster. In actuality, this wasn't too far from the truth; but I didn't need their help with it at all. If anything, I needed their help with showing Paris that I wasn't as much of a monster that they all thought.

For the moment, however, I was sitting near Apollo's Lyre on top of the opera. The sunlight shone down on me, warming me through my cloak and causing the gold statue to glint annoyingly. It was then that I heard the faint hiss of air brakes. "Tourists…" I growled.

Every day, or at least the days when rehearsals weren't going on, buses full of people would pack themselves into the Opera House just to see my home. I knew that's why, too; for one, it was a beautiful building in itself, but since there was a Phantom… Well, that just added a whole new ingredient to the mix.

I disappeared from the roof and went to go see if I could possibly frighten one of them. As I was going down, I heard a voice squeal excitedly, "I just can't believe I'm actually in the GARNIER OPERA HOUSE!"

Of course you can't. I was a bit intrigued, however, to see who this person was. Sneaking around in the shadows and behind objects, I managed to catch a glimpse of her back. She was holding out her hand to motion to the staircase. "I just wish my camera hadn't died! This is great research for my story!"

She sounded terribly American. I managed to duck behind the pillar as she hurried by, so close that I felt the brush of her long red hair against my shoulder. "My goodness, this is the most beautiful building I've ever seen!"

"Thank you…" I whispered, sending it over to her side.

"Hm? Did you say something?" She turned slightly.

The older woman following her shook her head. "No, I didn't."

"Oh." She giggled softly. "I must be hearing things."

I decided to follow this energetic young woman. She was spouting off facts about the opera house as she went, followed by bits and pieces of the Phantom story. And, of course, raving about some story that she was writing. Who on earth was this girl? And why did she know so much about my home?

"Lynn, we're going to the arena. You're going to want to come."

She ran off in the direction of what I assumed to be her teacher, her black purse bouncing against her hip. I hurried to catch up with her, staying still out of sight. I heard her gasp at the sight of the theatre. "Oh my God… Oh my God, it's the chandelier!"

"Magnificent, isn't it?" I whispered once more.

"Yeah… Yeah it is…"

One of her friends nudged her. "Who are you talking to?"

"Didn't you say something?"

"Uh, no… No I didn't…"

This Lynn girl looked down and around. "Oh… Well, that would explain why the voice had a really thick French accent…"

She began walking out the theatre and around the boxes. She finally came to mine, the infamous Box 5. "Mon dieu…"

"Your French is positively abominable."

She whirled around and gasped. "Who… Who are you?"

I smiled slightly. "No one of importance. But you're standing in front of my box."

"You're the Phantom!"

"Heh, oui." I waved her aside and opened the door. I was about to walk in when she grabbed my cloak. My eyes widened. "You, insolent child, are touching the Opera Ghost."

"How do I know you're not some actor?"

Her tone was even and I looked at her cold blue eyes. I merely smiled charmingly and brushed her off. "My dear child–"

"Humph."

"Fine then. Listen, perhaps I am an actor, or perhaps I'm not. Think of it this way: the Phantom is a man, correct? Well, I am most certainly and obviously not a man." I walked into my box and was about to close the door when I looked back at her. "If only your camera hadn't died."

She watched me walk in before crinkling her brow in thought. "The Phantom…is a man… But in Leroux's version he also wore a full face mask… And talked in third person quite a bit… Then who was that?" She shrugged to no one in particular. "Oh well. Better go get some more research for my story."

I looked after her as she left. Fooling her was easier than I thought. And now, they were closing up entry to the theatre as rehearsals were about to begin.

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**It's true that my camera died as soon as I walked in the building. T.T It was a sad day indeed... Well, the next chapter will be up eventually and will be much more action-y.**

**Review!**

**-LoRF**

**P.S. Hey M.A., I hope you don't mind that I didn't wait until Friday. And if you want Box 5, have fun fighting Marian over it. ^_^**


	17. A Better Fencer Than Me

**How do two chapters in a day strike you, lovely readers? There's actually a reason for this. The next chapter will be very critical for the story and I want to spend a lot of time on it NOW. However, I can't really do that when I had to write this chapter first. So, that's what I did...rather quickly, too, I might add. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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It was late by the time they finished. Trixie was always the first person to get ready to leave, which, for the moment, was a wonderful thing indeed. She was coming down the main staircase when I caught her on top of my trapdoor. I glared at her from behind my half-mask. "Bon soir, Beatrice."

She backed up and held her hand in front of her. "Wh-what do you want?"

"Oh, nothing in particular." I was holding my rapier in my hands, feeling over the sharp tip with my gloved hand. A slow grin spread across my face and I shucked my jacket, leaving me with my white shirt and grey vest. "Just…for you to leave the Opera House."

"I was about to go home–"

"Permanently." I turned my head to face her. "I have heard a saying before, something like, "I don't have to run faster to get away from the bear; just faster than you." Well, you don't have to be a good fencer; just a better one than me."

I threw my extra rapier at her from where it had lain beside me on the ground. She caught it awkwardly. "You're not serious!"

"Oh, I'm perfectly serious, Trixie. Perfectly." I held out my rapier toward her. "En garde!"

She managed to take the sword from the scabbard in time to parry one of my attacks. "Oh-ho! I see! You might be a worthy foe yet!"

I kept attacking aggressively, forcing her down the steps and into the foyer. She ran behind a pillar and I stood very still. The sound of panting came from my right. "I can hear you breathing, you know… You have no chance of escaping me!" I struck my blade against the stone, creating a spark.

Trixie shrieked, jumping into view. I chuckled madly and lunged at her. She brought her sword down just in time once more. With the flick of my wrist, I tore it from her hand and it skittered across the polished marble. "And what are you going to do now?"

She dove for it at the same time I prepared to skewer her. The screech of metal against metal ravaged in my ears, causing me to flinch. She took advantage of this and managed to force all her weight onto her blade–which was crossed with mine–and shove me backward. I gritted my teeth and did the same.

For a moment we were locked in this battle of strength, just before I suddenly ducked out of the way and to the side. She stumbled forward. I whipped around, catching her arm with my blade. She cried out in pain and pressed her other hand to the wound.

I stopped to catch my breath. "Now do you think I'm serious?"

"That really hurt, you know…" She whimpered.

"I really don't care, you know."

She glared at me and lunged at me fiercely. I chuckled and started climbing up some of the stairs, letting her think she had the upper hand. Just as I turned to begin going sideways on the wide steps, she jumped to get in front of me. I took another step and ended up tumbling down the few stairs to land painfully at the bottom.

As I began to get up, I saw that she was pointing the blade at my throat. "I win."

It was then that I heard Chris's voice shout, "Trixie!"

He was rushing toward us. Trixie turned back to me and made the motion to run the blade through my heart. Dear lord, let it be quick…

"Trixie, no!" Chris grabbed her sword hand. "No. Not like this."

She stared down at me before throwing the rapier to the side. I jumped to my feet and picked it up. "Not like this, eh? And how would you prefer me to die, then?"

"Get out of here before I kill you myself!" He looked at his lover and noticed the blood staining her shirt sleeve. "Trixie, she hurt you…"

"I'll be fine." She smiled at him weakly.

I scowled at the two of them as I got my jacket and whatnot. "Pfft. Worry about her, will you. She's not the one who just tripped down marble stairs…" I turned my head toward them. "Fine. I'm leaving then, since you obviously don't want me around."

In truth, I was hoping that perhaps Chris would be at least a bit concerned for me, being his teacher and everything. Instead he whipped his head around to look at me. "I said get outta here! You could've killed Trixie and you don't even care!"

"No… That's… That's not true…" My shoulders fell as I looked away from him. "All right, I'll go… I… Je suis désolé."

"You're never sorry for anything you do."

I winced and started walking away. "Well, I guess I'll see you at the lesson, then?"

"Don't count on it!"

"Of course…" Sighing, I turned to go up the staircase leading to the hall so that I could go quickly to one of the hidden corridors. I was sorry for some things I did. Like this one. I hadn't actually meant to hurt her; I just…wanted to make a point.

But now my point-making had gone too far and Chris hated me at the moment. "Stupid, stupid, stupid Marian!" I shouted, slamming my fist on the wall. "Bon dieu, now I'm talking in the third person…"

Well, I suppose on the upside, I couldn't possibly become more insane than when I start talking in the third person like my great-something grandfather. Then again, knowing my luck, this was only the beginning. As if the past months had been no indication of what was possibly to come.

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**LoRF think that everyone should talk in third person because LoRF thinks it would be funny...and annoying. LoRF has a friend that did that earlier today. LoRF was glad it didn't last more than first period.**

**Anyway, the next chapter will be worked on dilligently by myself and published when I wish (M.A., you readin' this?) for true art takes time. As for a sneak, try to think of the lost song sung by Gerard Butler that was never used in the movie, but I believe one can watch it on the two-disc special edition deleted scenes section. That's right; it's time for Marian to start singing again!**

**Reviews are appreciated! **

**-LoRF**


	18. Marian Annabelle Erikson

**I know it didn't seem like a very long time, but considering all the time I put into it over the past two days, it was a lot! Actually, this is just the first half of the chapter, since it would be too long to put all together. You'll hate me at the end, you'll see... You'll see... *evil grin***

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the joy for what reviews I do recieve.**

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It was a long, long time before I dared venture from my lair again. A musical went by and now they were trying to decide for an opera. A part of me told me to "suggest" an opera for them; the other parts told me to mind my own business and stay out of the way. If I interfered, it would only give them more reason to despise me, and quite frankly I was tired of being despised.

How could I not have realized this until Chris shunned me? Why did it take so long? One would think that I would have figured it all out sometime ago. Yet, as I sat on the edge of the stage after closing time, I knew that I had been foolish all along. Perhaps Philippe really was the one in charge and I was just my own puppet. Perhaps I truly _was_ just there for show.

No, that wasn't right. If I was here purely for show then my family wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of becoming who we were. I was the product of a century's worth of training, hiding, and learning about the Opera House. The only thing about this place we didn't have was the official deed. Not that we needed it, of course. Gaston Leroux did a good enough job of making sure we were feared and obeyed.

Though now, as I sat by my lonesome, I began to feel as if life was just passing me by. I remembered the stories Sophie used to tell me about her schooling days. She was much more intelligent than I in that category, for all that my father had taught me equaled about one's fifth year in elementary. Often, when she wasn't telling me about some party or other, she would bring her homework down and attempt to do it as we talked. I never understood anything that she was doing.

Come to think of it, I didn't know much about anything in this new world. Whilst I lived in 1911, the rest of Paris was in full swing in 2011. No wonder I didn't have a chance with Chris. To him, I was most likely just some sort of desperate, technologically-deprived maniac that needed to be sent to the crazy house.

My legs dangled over the side of the stage as I was deep in thought. I sighed heavily and stood, brushing myself off and going to stand in the middle of the stage. What I wouldn't give to be able to stand here during the production, as a part of the production! My time as Christine was truthfully a miracle in itself. I had been so sure that Chris would recognize the left side of my face, but apparently I had given him too much credit.

Ah, Chris… I doubted that he would ever forgive me. What I had done was a bit much. I never should have picked a fight with his love, the one I hated but was dear to the one dear to me. The fact that I should have lost the trust and respect of the one man I had ever truly loved… It gave me a feeling that I just didn't know how to describe.

"_No one would listen. No one but he heard as the outcast hears…_" My voice drifted through the empty auditorium with the all-too familiar echo. The echo…of a hopelessly empty audience. "_Shamed into solitude, shunned by the multitude, I learned to listen. In my dark, my heart heard music._"

I went over to a forgotten set piece and ran my hand over it, lovingly, almost. "_I long to teach the world. Rise up and reach the world. No one would listen. I alone could hear the music._"

Turning to my imaginary listeners, I walked to the edge of the stage. "_Then at last a voice in the gloom seemed to cry, "I hear you! I hear your fears, your torment and your tears!" He saw my loneliness, shared in my emptiness…_" I was reminded immediately of the first few times Chris and I met. It was obvious to him, even back then, that I was in dire need of a friend.

"_No one would listen… No one but he, heard as the outcast hears…_" I went to go sit down again, the feeling of sadness overcoming me once more. "_No one would listen… No one but he, hard as the outcast…hears…_"

Just then, the sound of clapping reached my ears. I rose to my feet and looked to the source. "Chris? What are you doing here?" My eyes narrowed.

He appeared from the gloom at the other side of the stage, walking up to me, rather bravely considering that I was glaring at him. He stopped only a few feet in front of me. "I was waiting for you."

My left eyebrow skyrocketed. "And people think that I'm creepy…"

Chris chuckled and smiled slightly. "Well, let me explain. I, erm, I guess I could say that I missed you."

"You…missed me?" I turned on my heel and let him stare at my back. "Please, don't lie to me. You've got Beatrice, what could you possibly be missing me for? I'm of no use to you anymore. Remember? I don't matter."

He grabbed my shoulder and whirled me around. "Phantom, that's not true! The thing is, after you and Trix got into that fight, our relationship has been a bit…rocky. She, um… She cut it off with me earlier today."

"And now you're heartbroken and coming back to me? Hah!" I waved my hand as if to brush him away. "What do you take me for?"

"I was hoping that I could talk to you again. Listen, O.G., I missed your voice and our singing lessons and I missed seeing you prowl around and cause trouble. Why can't you just accept that? I'm not coming back to you for love or from desperation; but I will say that I… I care for you a great deal."

His words stopped me from walking away in the least. I looked up into his eyes. He seemed in earnest, but after all that had happened, all that we had been through… Could I really trust him about this? "I…care for you too, Christopher."

"If you care for me, then let me see your face."  
"No!" I backed away from him. "How DARE you even mention it?"

Chris looked down in shame. "I'm sorry. I just want to know what you look like."

"Look at the left side of my face and you'll know."

"I've seen the left side before. That's all I've ever seen. I want to see what's underneath the mask." He gazed down at me endearingly. "Please, Phantom? Let me see you for who you really are."

I considered his words before answering slowly, "What if I'm disfigured and scarred? What will you do then?"

"I'm not going to pull a Christine and faint, that's for sure."

His comment brought a small smile to my face. I nodded slowly. "All right… I'll show you what the Phantom looks like. But only this once."

My hand came up to my mask slowly. I gripped the edge nearest my lips and tugged slightly, feeling it come loose. Pulling it away, I looked down and watched as the alabaster mask, my only friend for so long, dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Immediately the right side of my face became cold and I trembled. My heart pounded with the nervousness of the fact that I had just torn off my only defense.

"Look at me, Phantom."

I raised my head so that I was staring straight into his eyes. He gasped, and I became alarmed. My skin tingled where he reached out to touch it. "Are you unsure whether I am real or not?"

"No, I know you're real… I'm just… Wow…" He brushed away a lock of pale blond hair that had fallen across my forehead. "Wait a moment… Cadence?"

"Sort of… It's true that Cadence and I are the same person, but that's not my name."

"But you are Cadence."

"In a sense. To explain, when I auditioned for the part of Christine so long ago, I was already acting the character of Cadence Willbury. You know, of course, that that's not really what I'm like. Cadence is happy and giddy, whilst I'm…not."

He nodded, his hand never leaving my face. "Right. I understand now. Then, la Fantôme, what is your real name?"

"I am Marian Annabelle Erikson, the Phantom of the Opera and Erik Destler's great-something granddaughter." I smiled slightly. "Of course, I suppose you could say that my real, _real_ name is Marian Destler, but we had to change it at some point because the name Destler was becoming well-known."

"Marian… So that's who Sophie was talking about! I had heard her mention your name before but she never told me who you were." He took his hand from me and grinned. "So, Marian…"

"I assume you approve of my name? It's much better than just calling me Phantom all the time."

"Of course I approve! It's your name; why wouldn't I?"

"How should I know?" I took his hand in mine and began leading him off stage. "Come. I want to show you my kingdom."

He stopped me and pulled me against him. "What are you talking about?" He said in my ear.

"My kingdom. My opera house. I want to show you the sights that no one has ever seen."

"Why, when I can see all I've ever wanted to see right here?" He turned me around and smiled softly. "Marian, now that I've seen you, you can never let me leave, right?"

I chuckled. "W-well, that's how Erik did it! But I don't mind so much. I'm not a maniac like he was, you know. No talking in third person and whatnot."

"Maybe I don't want you to let me leave."

I walked my fingers up his chest to finally poke his nose. "I don't think you'll want to stay in the bottom of an opera house. You're free to do as you wish. Of course, if you tell even one person about what I look like or what my name is, you'll have the sharp end of my rapier, got it?"

"Marian, you don't understand!"

"I do understand, I'm just choosing not to pay attention!"

I looked up into his blue eyes and sighed. "Listen, it… No matter how much I want it, I can't… I can't have it… I'm the Phantom, remember? It's a bit of a family rule and tradition that I remain…alone. In a way."

"_Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?_" He gently stroked my right cheek with his thumb as he leaned only a little closer to me. I swallowed hard and kept my eyes on him. "_God give me courage to show you: you are not alone!_"

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**BWAHAHAHAHA! And you all thought I'd leave off with another cliche cliff-hanger! Well, this is 10X worse than any of those! Well, not really, since you can all probably guess what comes next, but it still give me a sadistic joy knowing that I stopped it HERE. **

**So... Depending on how much you like/hate me right now, leave a reivew or flame! I'll take either at this point!**

**-LoRF**


	19. Back To Work

**I am so sorry I wasn't able to get this up before! And yes, I realize that this chapter is going to be extremely short in comparison by what you were all expecting thanks to my, what was it, three week absense, perhaps? Anyway, the truth is that I lost interest for a while but now I'm back and ready to continue! So, I hope you enjoy chapter 19.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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My eyes widened and my body stiffened as he pressed his lips to mine. At first, I didn't know how to react; all the kissing I had done was as Christine and even then it was staged, so I didn't quite count it as being true and actual. But as he pulled away for a short moment for breath before going at it again, I relaxed and my arms came up around his neck. I closed my eyes, pressing myself against him and enjoying this, my technical first.

I finally pulled away from him after some seconds. "Wait a moment… I thought you said you didn't come here out of desperation!"

"I didn't!" He sighed quickly. "I guess I'm going to have to explain this to you, too. About a month ago, Trixie asked me whether I loved you or her. I told her that I loved you both."

"That's impossible. Even I know that."

"Not really. I loved you each for different reasons. Trixie was like a shield, kinda. I felt safe when I was with her."

I eyed him critically. "And what about me?"

"Well, you, Marian…" He smiled again. "Your music is what drew me in."

"Of course." I walked a few steps away from him. "Almost as if I couldn't have guessed it."

"It's not just your music, you know! It's who you are. Your personality. Your mindset, I guess? Just trust me on this. It's hard to explain."

I turned my head to look at him from the corner of my eye. "I do trust you. It's just that this is a bit hard for me to comprehend right now."

"Right. Understandable."

"So… Now that you're done with Trixie, rather, she's done with you…that leaves only me." Biting my lower lip slightly, I began to think a bit more in-depth with this.

"I guess you could put it that way."

"So, putting it that way, does that mean that you're going to force me out of my home to be with the upper world or… Well, what exactly _does_ this mean now?"

"It means whatever you want it to mean."

I turned back around just as a beeping sound came from his person. He whipped out his cell phone and shut it angrily. "Marian, it's late and I have to go. Monsieur Strauss is telling us the new opera tomorrow. I hope you'll understand."

"Of course. You need rest. I'll be here…as usual."

He smiled and came up to me. Before I had time to react, he wrapped his arms around me and spun me around in probably the oddest hug I had ever received. I looked up at him in confusion just as he left me with a puzzling kiss on my forehead. Tilting my head, I watched as he ran out the arena. "Um… Bon soir?" I called.

"Bon soir, Marian!" I heard his voice reply from far off.

Now I was truly alone and free to plot my next move, which would be…something. A sudden thought struck me, a Phantom thought, a thought that was purely born of the Opera Ghost. "The next opera, hm?" I chuckled aloud. "I'll take care of that."

I hurried to go down to my lair. Once there, I searched franticly through my bookcase for an old, old copy of a certain production I kept around… Yes! I still had it! Clutching the score for _Faust_ in my hand, I headed up to one my favorite haunts in the whole house: Philippe's office.

Plopping the score down, I grabbed a piece of paper and red pen. Now for my favorite part.

"Dear Philippe Strauss,

I have left you alone for a good month now, but my inactivity cannot last forever. I became aware of your decision for the next opera to be produced, and I disapprove, naturally. You will see that I have chosen for you an opera that I particularly enjoy, and I believe your audience will as well. As usual, I demand that Christopher Nighting be given the lead role. If he does not receive it, then a disaster greater than any I have already inflicted _will _occur. Box Five will also be left empty for me, or the aforementioned punishment will still occur.

I remain your obedient and ever-present servant,

The Phantom of the Opera"

Placing the note on the score, I left his office for a good night's rest of my own. Oh, how good it felt to be back to my work! Tomorrow would be very interesting, I knew. And how I could hardly wait.

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**This story will be over soon, by the way, and I shouldn't imagine it even getting to 25 chapters. Of course, I originally thought that this was only going to be around 15 chapters, so what do I know? **

**Either way, you should leave a review! ^_^**

**-LoRF**


	20. And The Chandelier Came Crashing Down

**Wow, it's been a while! Sorry for that. Aside from the end of school, my summer has consisted so far of either work or travel. This is my first free day when I actually feel good enough to get out of bed. Anyway, I'd like to acknowledge first that this one of the last chapters. I'm planning on only two, maybe three more. That's right; Opera Ghost is soon to be finished! On that note, I hope you all enjoy chapter twenty.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**P.S. I know that some of this doesn't seem realistic, but just go along with it. After all the work I did examining my Opera House map, I don't want any flames on the layout on the building!**

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Tomorrow came and went.

Rehearsals started and ended.

Costumes were made and worn.

And opening night had come.

Where was I during all this, you ask? Why, I was watching from my Box. At least, I _had_ been, until it was sold for the last time, I would be sure of that. I found out before the opera actually started that my seat was taken. And so began the third and final act to my extravagant play of gaining revenge upon the House.

Weighing in at eight metric tons, the chandelier made the perfect weapon. Though I hated destroying the ceiling, it would have to be done if I was to make my plan work. The night before the performance, I spent either cutting away cables or thinning ropes and unlatching chains. After all, they never checked the chandelier; they just assumed that it would stay up.

I actually waited above a makeshift trapdoor, IN the ceiling itself. I could hear _Faust_ going on below me. Chris's sweet voice mixed with Trixie down on stage. I was glad that my own cue was coming, for I didn't know how much longer I could listen to her attempt at Margarita.

Yet, as I waited, I began to think. I had already destroyed the arena at one other time. Could I do it again? Shaking myself, I nodded. Of course I can! I am, after all, the Phantom! And Philippe knew better than to sell my seat. He knows that punishment will come. They all do. I gave them fair warning, so now I get the fair right of exacting my revenge.

I heard Trixie begin to sing my cue: "_With its melody enwind me, and with all my heart subdue._"

With that, I poked my head out from the trapdoor. "She sings to bring down the chandelier tonight!"

As usual, the audience looked around as I snaked down the chain holding up the great chandelier to stand on it. It creaked and I knew that the last cable holding it up was breaking. "You've sold Box Five for the last time, Monsieur Strauss! And now, you'll pay the price for disobeying–" At that moment, the cable snapped and the chandelier began to swing forward, with me standing on top "–Le Fantôme de l'Opéra!"

My laughter rang strong and true throughout the arena, almost drowned by the clashing of the crystals on the chandelier and the screams of terrified spectators. The orchestra fled, as did the actors on stage. The lights flickered just as I hit the front of the stage; alas, I didn't put into plan one of the elementary laws of physics: whatever is in motion tends to stay that way…

The sudden stop jerked me from my perch and I crashed onto the wood. All was black around me as I lay motionless. When I saw the faint glow of auxiliary lights above me, I started to get up. Pain flashed through my wrist, causing me to cry out and collapse. As my vision began to clear, I saw Philippe walking angrily toward me, his black shoes echoing in my ears.

It was then that I heard the distinct click of a hammer being drawn back on a revolver.

My eyes widened; surely, he didn't intend to use that thing! What had I done to deserve to killed like a worthless animal? He pointed the muzzle right at my forehead. I managed to push myself up into a sitting position, whimpering pitifully. "Please… Please, monsieur, please… Don't shoot…"

"I'll be doing the police, and myself, a favor." His finger tightened on the trigger, only slightly.

I closed my eyes. If this was how I was going to die, let it be quick, and let me not see it. I heard another person running in front of me. "I'm not gonna let you shoot my best friend!"

"Sophie…?" I looked up to see her standing there.

Philippe lowered the gun and looked at her, a confused expression on his face. "What? Sophia, what is the meaning of this? Stand aside and let me finish her off!"

"You can't! I won't let you! She's my best friend and I'm not going to let you kill her." She knelt beside me to pull me to my feet.

"She destroyed my theatre and nearly killed my audience! She deserves to die! Why do you think I brought this thing? I knew she'd try to do something tonight!"

"Philippe, Phantom is perfectly harmless if you'd stop harassing her!" She brushed me off gently. "Now, leave her alone and just do what she says."

"You expect me to just give in to her crazy demands?" He raised the revolver and aimed it at me once more. "Never!"

The gun went off just as Sophie shrieked. I felt the bullet whiz past my side. Stealing one last glance at them, I ran like a frightened animal. I ran from the arena into the main staircase of the Opera House and looked around furtively. Other than the actors and stagehands, I was the only one left here. And I was trapped in my own home.

My wrist was throbbing by this point. I gritted my teeth as I ran toward the direction of one of the main foyers. Each footstep echoed on the marble floor, causing my hair to stand on end. Every heartbeat reminded me of my terror. I ducked behind a column and tried to catch my breath. Please, PLEASE, don't come after me… I don't want to die…

"Phantom? Phantom, where are you!" Sophie's voice traveled to my ears.

My breath hitched in my throat and I sprinted into the hallway, right in front of Trixie. She gasped and shouted, "I found her!"

Running ever faster, I hurried from her and down the main staircase. I didn't want them to catch me. Lord only knew what they would do to me then. Kill me? Harm me? Or perhaps, if I was lucky, they'd let me go. I half ran, half fell down the next flight of stairs into the area where tourists would enter. Pressing myself against the wall, I heard Trixie tromp down the steps.

She leaned on the wall and doubled over, tired from running after me. "Girl, you gotta get in shape…" She muttered, gulping down air.

While she was resting, I dashed in front of her and back up the steps. As I stood there, trying to make my next move, Sophie came running from the other side. I saw Trixie coming up after me, and Philippe and Chris were coming from the auditorium. I was truly surrounded.

Philippe wasn't holding the revolver, but I still didn't trust him. They all stopped some feet away from me. I swallowed hard, trying to gauge if I could run or not. As I did, I managed to trip over my own feet and fell hard on my left side. The air was knocked from me, and I struggled to move.

A hand gently lay on my shoulder. I looked up to see Chris there, kneeling at my side. "Calm down. No one is going to hurt you."

I stopped moving and laid there on the marble, weak and tired. "Chris…" I felt him feel over my mask. "Take… Take it off."

"Then everyone will know what you look like."

"I don't care. Just take it off…"

He firmly took it in his hand and peeled it away from my face. I knew a bruise was forming from where I feel against the stage. For the moment, however, I didn't care. Chris looked at me, at least a bit of sympathy showing through his eyes. He gently took me in his arms. "I can't believe you went through all that just to get back at us."

"You wouldn't listen to anything I said." I gazed up at him. "Surely you don't think less of me?"

"How could I? After all, actions speak louder than words."

With that, he bent his head down to place a soft kiss upon my lips, the last thing I felt before slipping into unconsciousness.

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**Well, there's the end of chapter twenty. I actually had three different titles for this chapter: "Bringin' Down The House" "Worst Decision Of My Life" or "And The Chandelier Came Crashing Down". Obviously, I went with the last one. **

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**-LoRF**


	21. Wake Up Call

**Here's the next chapter a lot sooner than the last one. I see only a few more chapters before this is finished. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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The sound of my boots on the stony ground echoed around me as I continued walking forward in the darkness. I felt nothing, saw nothing, but I heard the faint dripping of water in the distance. Oddly, this seemed all too familiar. I knew where I was, yet… Where was I?

"No, no! You're not high enough!"

That voice…sounded familiar…

"But Papa–"

"Marian!"

At the sound of my name, I jumped. No one was around me, but how…? It was then that I caught sight of a beam of light underneath the wall in front of me. It wasn't a wall; no, it was a curtain! A curtain that led right into my lair. I was in the bottom of the Opera House. As I stepped toward the light and pulled away the red velvet, I gasped. I was in the bottom of the Opera House…in my past.

My father sat at the organ, running his fingers through his russet-colored hair. Next to him stood someone who looked remarkably like me. Upon further inspection, I saw that it _was_ me, as a ten-year-old. That explained why he yelled my name. The younger me was standing impatiently, fidgeting with a loose string on her shirt.

"Papa, I just don't understand why I have to learn a song from a play I've never even seen!" She looked at him hopelessly.

He smiled slightly. "Oh Marian, you'll understand someday. You see, it's in the musical that explains why we're here. Now, once more from the top. Let's go." He began playing a tune I remembered well.

She sighed before beginning to sing. "_You were once my one companion. You were all that mattered…_"

My young voice wavered and seemingly strained to catch some of the notes. I stood behind her and joined in. "_You were once a friend and father. Then my world was shattered…_"

The song continued without me. I closed my eyes, opening them again just to find myself in a different time. "_Wishing you were somehow here again. Wishing you were somehow near._" This time, Papa and Little Me rushing into the lair, laughing and breathing heavily. "_Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here…_"

Papa laid his hand on my head and calmed himself. "Ah, old Jean-Pierre had no idea that was coming!" He chuckled breathlessly.

She nodded eagerly. "I thought Gaston was going to have a heart attack and keel over!"

"Dropping the backdrop near them at the most serious moment… Classic Phantom, Marian, classic Phantom!" He removed his cape and went to a small cabinet, getting out a bottle of wine and two glasses. "You, girl, have earned the right to one glass with me. Just one, you understand?"

"_Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would… Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could._" I watched as she leapt up on a bench beside him, licking her lips.

"Oh, merci, Papa!" She took the glass carefully in her hands, taking a small sip and screwing up her face from the dry taste. "It's, um… Fantastique."

I smiled slightly. "_Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem, for you, the wrong companions. You were warm and gentle._"

He chuckled and took a long draught. "You'll get used it someday, my daughter, someday."

The scene before me swirled away and was replaced by a new one, one that I'd rather forget. Little Me was trying to sneak into the lair, with Father sitting at his organ. "_Too many years fighting back tears. Why can't the past just die?_"

He stopped playing and looked at her. "Marian, where have you been?"

"…Out. With Sophie."

He stood up, looming over her small frame. "I ask again, where have you been?"

"I, um…" She swallowed hard.

"You left the opera house without my permission. The fact that you left the opera house at all astounds me. I'm just grateful that Eva caught you before you got very far." His steely gaze scared even me.

She backed away from him. "I'm sorry, Papa. Please forgive me!"

"You know that you are never to leave this place!" He shouted, echoing throughout the caverns.

I took a deep breath. "Oh Papa… Why didn't you listen?"

He grabbed her arm and didn't seem to pay attention to her cry of surprise. I looked away as he slipped his belt from his waist and held it above his head, the silver sides flashing in the candlelight. I flinched as my young twelve-year-old self screamed in pain as the belt came cutting across her back with a resounding smack that I had never forgotten. My own scar seemed to throb with the memory.

"_Wishing you were somehow here again, knowing we must say goodbye…_" I felt a tear snake down my face. The one time he was violent with me had left me emotionally and physically scarred for life, something he had never forgiven himself for.

As I turned back, I wished then that I could finally wake up from this dream turned nightmare. "_Try to forgive, teach me to live. Give me the strength to try._"

My father sat at the organ, hunched over tiredly. I was thirteen now, and I came walking out from the kitchen in a robe and my hair falling down my back and shoulders. "Oh Papa, it's late! Aren't you finished yet?"

"I will be soon, Marian." He looked at me slowly, a weak smile on his lips.

"Well, all right then. I'm going to bed. Bon nuit, Father." She went over and gave him a hug, leaving him with a small kiss on his cheek before going toward her bedroom.

He reached for her, taking her wrist. "M-Marian!"

"Oui?" She looked back at him, confused.

"I love you, Marian, more than you'll ever know. And… I'm proud of you. You'll make a great Phantom some day." He let go of her wrist and smiled, seeming stronger now. "You have a good night's rest, my girl."

"I will. Je t'aime, Papa." She turned then and walked away.

I went over to the organ, placing a shaking hand on the wood. "_No more memories, no more silent tears. No more gazing across the wasted years._"

His fingers moved progressively slower over the old keys until they finally stopped altogether. He slumped forward on the organ, seeming to rest his head. But I knew the truth. I sat next to him and looked at his serene face one last time. "_Help me say goodbye…_" A choked sob escaped my lips.

* * *

"Papa!"

My eyes flew open and I felt a hand on my arm. "Marian, calm down! You're fine. You're safe."

I looked over to see Chris sitting next to me. "C-Chris? What… What's happened? Where am I?" My gaze flitted over the unfamiliar white room.

"After you passed out, we took you to the hospital. You've been asleep since yesterday."

"What time is it now?"

"Late morning." He smiled and entwined my fingers with his. "I was worried about you, if it helps. You didn't seem to enjoy your nap."

I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair. "No, you wouldn't either if you saw your deceased father in your dreams. But enough about that. Why am I here? I don't belong here. I want to go back to my lair, where it's safe."

"Mar, you don't remember? You fell off the chandelier!"

"Of course I remember." It was then that I looked down at our hands. My eyes widened. "What is this?"

"Um, your wrist is broken…"

I squeaked in alarm. "No! It can't be! I can't play the organ like this!" I looked up at him. "Tell me you're in jest."

"I'm serious. The doctor even said no music for a while. On the upside, at least this is the extent of what's wrong with you. You could be dead."

My mind flashed back to the gun that Philippe held. "Good point." I sighed heavily, gazing up at the ceiling. "When can I go home?" I groaned.

"Soon. Very soon."

Soon… That better mean this afternoon. I exhaled in frustration. First my father appears in my dreams, my memories, rather, and I wake up to find that I've broken my wrist. Fantastique. Suddenly, I began to heavily regret crashing the chandelier.

* * *

**Is it sad that I nearly started crying at the end of the dream sequence? I mean, my eyes got a bit foggy, but other than that I didn't do anything... Or does that make me heartless?**

**Either way, please leave a review, by all means!**

**-LoRF**


	22. The End Of My Love Story

**Here it is... The final chapter of Opera Ghost. I... I had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy it! In the meantime, I think I'm going to go cry in the corner... I hate seeing a story end...**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

I watched with a heavy heart as the construction was going on in the auditorium. Turning away, I went to the main foyer and sat on the steps. No mask was on my face today; there wasn't any more need of it. Everyone knew who I was now. At least, the Opera House people did.

Someone near me cleared their throat. I looked up; it was Philippe. He was standing in front of me. "Phantom–err, Mademoiselle Erikson?"

I nodded, standing up. "Oui?"

"Could you come to my office for a few minutes? I want to talk to you."

"Sure."

He led me to the small office, the place I had visited often for Phantom purposes. Once we were both in the green-papered room, he motioned for me to sit down. I did so, and he sat at his desk. Shuffling through papers, he finally looked at me. "I have a business proposition for you."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Go on…"

"It has come to my attention that you and Cadence are the same person, yes?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Well, that time we did _Phantom of the Opera_ was the fullest I've seen this place in the two years I've been here. Marian–may I call you that? Yes, thank you–I want you to take over for Trixie. There would be some changes made regarding your Phantom activities, of course…"

I leaned forward. "Monsieur, I'm not exactly the Phantom anymore… I mean, what is a Phantom if everyone knows the face behind the mask?"

"Hm. True. In that case, do you accept? I'd like very much to make you a part of the cast here at the Garnier. You'd be fantastic here. Of course, instead of that ridiculous salary you used to demand, I'd have to start giving you a regulated pay. And you wouldn't have much control over any of the productions here." He smiled slightly. "I really do want you to say yes. We need people like you. You've grown up here; you know the business better than anyone."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that…" I cleared my throat and began to think. I, personally, didn't see any harm in joining. After all, I would take Trixie's job and she would most likely finally _leave_. I could still live here, but I'd be doing what I do best: theatre. And for a living, no less! "Monsieur Strauss, you have yourself a deal!"

We stood up and he extended his right hand for mine just as I extended my left. He looked down and quickly switched. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Eh, worry not."

He opened the door for me and let me out. "Have a nice day, Marian. By the way, it will obviously be quite some time before you'll be able to start working, what with reconstruction and your injury, but eventually we'll get you up on stage!"

A laugh worked itself up my throat. "I'll keep that in mind!" I walked away then, toward the entrance of the house. Chris said he was coming for me some time that afternoon but I couldn't remember when. Ah well. If he waits, he waits; if I wait, it won't have been the first time.

When I stepped out in the sunshine, I saw him leaning against a motorbike with a helmet in hand. "Marian!" He waved me over.

"How long have you been here?" were the first words out of my mouth.

"Just a few minutes." He handed me the helmet. "Get on. I want to take you someplace special."

I put the helmet on and slid the visor down, getting on the cycle and wrapping my arms around his waist once he was on as well. The engine revved and he glanced back at me before taking off. We slipped in between cars in the Parisian traffic. I was glad I wasn't wearing my usual black and white suit; instead, I had lately opted for jeans, shirts, and jackets borrowed from Sophie. The shoes, however, were my own.

My eyes were closed as he drove through the city. I wrapped my arms tighter around him and laid my head against his back. I could hear the faint whistle of air rush by the helmet, telling me that wherever we were going, Chris wanted to get there fast.

And it was fast; in seemingly no time at all (at least to me, in my daze of deep thinking and being lost in thoughts of he and I) he stopped. "Marian, we're here."

I jerked into an upright position and took the helmet off. "Oh. I see." I handed it to him and swung my leg over the seat to stand next to him. "The Luxembourg Gardens?"

"Yeah. Come on." He grabbed the key from the bike and took my hand. I let him lead me down a small sun-dappled path, for the overhead trees only let the sun shine through in spots and small places. People passed by us, jogging and listening to music on these fantastical machines called "iPods". (Needless to say, I wanted one, badly)

I was gazing around at the scenery when he stopped suddenly. Bumping into him, I grunted softly and backed up. "Are we here? Wherever here is…"

He nodded, sitting on the grass and patting a spot next to him. "Come, Phantom." The corners of his mouth twitched into a mischievous smile.

I sat down next to him and gazed over at him. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Lay down." He flopped backwards. "Go on, do it!"

Sighing, I situated myself next to him on my back, crossing my ankles and placing my left hand behind my head. "Now what? You'll want me to play a concerto on a piece of grass you pulled, no doubt."

"No, I want you to look up at the sky."

The trees around us blocked the harsh sunlight, yet let in just enough so that the shade wasn't cold. I looked up and watched with interest as the clouds drifted by. They looked like large bunches of cotton fluff. It was then that I realized I had never actually paid much attention to the sky. Truth be told, I had never really even _seen_ the sky.

I glanced over at Chris. "This is what you wanted me to see?"

"You need to get out more. So… Yeah, it is." He smiled at me. "You're so pale."

"Well, you, sir, are so…" I sighed, turning over on my side. "So French."

"Aren't we all? We are in Paris, after all!"

Rolling my eyes, I snuggled up closer to him, resting my right hand on his chest and my left near his shoulder. "I couldn't find any other words. I'm a musician, not a writer."

"Yes, but you're _my_ musician." He placed his hand on mine, tracing the outside of the plaster cast encasing it gently.

"Oh, am I? I had no idea I was your property now." I propped myself up on my elbow and stared down at him. "I was quite under the impression that you were still my student."

He chuckled deeply. "Until you can play the organ again, I'm nothing but your lover." It was then that he pressed my fingertips to his lips. "I thought you played the guitar. Your hand is too soft for that."

"I strum with my right hand, Chris. Don't you know anything?" I smiled, shaking my head.

"I know that I love you. Doesn't that count?"

"Eh. I'll give you that one." I laid my head on his shoulder.

"And what do you know?" He began stroking my long blonde hair.

I looked up at Mr. Christopher Nighting. "I know that I am the happiest Phantom alive." I cast my gaze skyward as I felt him place a kiss on my forehead. Maybe someday, if I'm so lucky as my father was before me, his father before him, and even all the way back to Erik, maybe someday I could become Mrs. Christopher Nighting. "Chris… Je t'aime."

* * *

**Well, that's that, I guess... There is a slight chance for a sequel, depending on if I get around to it or if I think it's worth it judging by how this went.**

**-The Legend of Rune Factory**


	23. Credits

**You couldn't possibly have thought that I HONESTLY would cut it off right there! I hadn't done the credits yet! Yes, indeed, I created a credits page. Also included are some trivia/bloopers/pointless facts about the original draft of _Opera Ghost_. Hope you enjoy it, and here is the true end of the story! And remember: I. OWN. NOTHING!**

**CREDITS**

Marian Erikson _based on_ Erik Destler, the Phantom

Christopher Nighting _based on_ Christine Daaé

Trixie Adams _based on_ La Carlotta/Raoul de Chagny

Sophia Giry _based on_ Meg Giry

Eva Giry _based on_ Madame Giry

Felix Giry _based on_ Monsieur Reyer

Philippe Strauss _based on_ M. Firmin Richard/M. André (Armand) Moncharmin

Devon Fredrickson _based on_ Josef Buquet

Lynn Silvers (that random tourist) _based on_ Myself

Erik the Opera Cat _based on_ my own cat, Keely

Audience Members _based on_ Themselves

Opera House People _based on_ Themselves

François Erikson _based on_ No one in Particular

Marissé Erikson _based on_ No one in Particular

**RANDOM AND POINTLESS TRIVIA**

In the original draft of _Opera Ghost_, the story was to start when Marian was fifteen, then go to eighteen. The second installment begins and ends when she is twenty.

Chris was originally going to start dating Marian when they were eighteen and then cause a lot of problems by breaking up with her. This idea was scrapped due to time, length, and not wanting to cause confusion issues.

The Giry family was going to be the Gamballie family, but I decided that sounded too Italian. (Yet I kept the oh-so English Cadence Willbury)

Philippe Strauss was originally two men by the names of Jean-Pierre and Gaston. I then created Philippe because I didn't want that many characters.

Trixie and Marian were actually supposed to meet when Marian was out in Paris one afternoon and they literally run into each other, thus prompting Trixie to ask where the Garnier Opera House was. After much thinking, I decided it would be easier and make more sense if Trixie were already at the Opera House.

I was actually not supposed to make a cameo, and that was my own little spur-of-the-moment randomness.

There wasn't as much singing in the original draft. In fact, they hardly sang at all and I'm surprised I put so much in this.

Trixie actually was going to be split into two characters, but when I couldn't find a name for the other character, I just made them the same person.

And finally, Marian's original name was going to be Ariane. However, I was already using that name in a different story, so I stuck an M to the front and called it complete.

**-LoRF**


End file.
